


Her Calling

by lilydaydreams



Category: Buffy the Vampire Slayer (TV), Person of Interest (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Buffy The Vampire Slayer Fusion, Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Alternate Universe - Vampire, Alternate Universe - Vampire Slayer, BAMF Sameen Shaw, Buffy the Vampire Slayer References, Buffyverse au, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Enemies to Lovers, F/F, Female Friendship, Flirting, Flirty Root | Samantha Groves, Friendship, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Inspired by Buffy the Vampire Slayer (TV), Light Angst, Male-Female Friendship, POV Female Character, POV Sameen Shaw, Sameen Shaw-centric, Slayer Sameen Shaw, Slow Burn, Team Dynamics, Team as Family, Vampire Root | Samantha Groves, Vampire Slayer(s), Vampires, team machine - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-03-25
Updated: 2020-07-08
Packaged: 2021-03-01 01:21:48
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 23,866
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23306746
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lilydaydreams/pseuds/lilydaydreams
Summary: 20-year-old premed student Sameen Shaw is called as the new Vampire Slayer. With the help of her best friend, Joss, her new Watcher, Finch, and his associate, Reese, she navigates a new world full of vampires, demons, and a mysterious stranger named Root who just won’t leave her alone on her patrols.****Discontinued at least for the time being, sorry! I hope to eventually get back to this work but it's on indefinite hiatus****
Relationships: Harold Finch & John Reese, Harold Finch & Sameen Shaw, John Reese & Sameen Shaw, Joss Carter & John Reese, Joss Carter & Sameen Shaw, Root | Samantha Groves & Sameen Shaw, Root | Samantha Groves/Sameen Shaw
Comments: 9
Kudos: 65





	1. Chapter One

**Author's Note:**

> This is my new quarantine project and I’m very excited about it! As soon as the idea of taking the Person of Interest characters and sticking them in the Buffyverse (minus Buffy/most of the BtVS characters, but keeping the vampire/slayer lore) popped into my head, I had to write it. You don’t need familiarity with BtVS to read, although it might help. Primarily slow burn Root/Shaw, totally haven’t figured out side pairings yet so I’m basically just going to see what unfolds. Rated M for later chapters.

Shaw’s feet pounded on the red rubber of the track and her breathing grew labored. Maybe if she ran for long enough she’d tire herself out enough to get some sleep tonight. No harm in trying, right?

It was a quarter after midnight and she was pretty sure she was alone out here. Not many people liked getting their fitness in so late at night. Fine by her; she liked how quiet and free of distractions it was out here. Space for her to push herself to the limit physically and mentally. Peaceful, almost.

On paper, yeah, probably not the absolute best idea for a five foot three girl to be out alone this late at night with no one knowing her location, but she didn’t care. Shaw was pretty sure she could take any potential muggers or attackers in a fight despite her petite frame. Especially with the help of the switchblade she had tucked into the waistband of her leggings.

She lengthened her stride and calmed her own breathing as she picked up the pace a bit. Today had, quite frankly, sucked absolute ass, and she wanted all her muscles to burn. Being a pre-med student was like that, sometimes, but she’d been served an extra helping of stress today at her quarterly advising meeting. 

“Ms. Shaw, as I’m sure you already know, your technical skills are remarkable and you’re a brilliant student,” Dr. Claypool, her advisor, had started. She’d managed to plaster a smile to her face, like you were supposed to when someone gave you a compliment. “I have, however, received mixed reports from your internship advisors at the Sunnydale Hospital.”

Shaw had dropped her fake smile immediately. “Have I been making errors in my lab work at the hospital?” She’d asked her advisor, even though she was almost certain that all her work had been impeccable.

“That’s the thing, Ms. Shaw,” he’d said in response. “You haven’t been making any errors. They say your technique is beautiful. But there have been come complaints and concerns about your...bedside manner.” Claypool had looked at her, as if waiting for her to say something to that, to apologize, to explain that somehow she’d been misrepresented by her bosses and coworkers. She had simply stared back at him, intense and unflinching, in a way she’d learned by now made other people a little uncomfortable for some reason. “Patients feel that you have little concern for their well-being or emotional state and there have been complaints that you may have been cold or abrasive in your interactions with them. Other interns are intimidated by you and find you difficult to work with. Your supervisors simply have some concerns regarding whether med school is truly the right route for you.”

“Why wouldn’t med school be the right route for me if, like you said, my technique is fine? I don’t get what other people’s subjective opinions of me have to do with my ability to fix patients.”

Claypool had gone on and on then about how a medical profession wasn’t just about science and technical mastery, but about healing other people and empathizing with them, yada yada yada. Nothing terribly new that Shaw had never heard before. What concerned her, and what had prompted her need for a tougher workout tonight, was Claypool’s warning that at this rate, she wasn’t going to get the letters of rec she needed for admissions. He’d ended their meeting with a warning that she ought to work on her people skills.

It would’ve been useless to try to explain to Claypool that it just wasn’t that easy. That she had already been on her best behavior during all those interactions. That she just didn’t have the ability to feel the kind of empathy for people that Claypool thought she should. She was trying to be good, but she’d realized when she was pretty young (and confirmed with an official diagnosis from her psychiatrist two years ago) that she’d have to rely on her reason to do the right thing, not guilt or sympathy or whatever it was that everybody else seemed to have guiding them. He just wouldn’t get it, and besides, she’d found people didn’t tend to like you any more than they had before if you explained that you were a sociopath.

So she ran, pushing and pushing, ruminating over next steps, until her mind fell into that quiet place where she could just feel the pumping of her own heart and the burning in her quads and not think about much else.

Suddenly, without any warning or clear reason, she felt something change. Like wearing a new pair of glasses for the first time and seeing everything more clearly, or the shock of jumping into a cold pool of water, except neither of those was quite right, or really summed up the totality of what she was feeling. One second, she was herself, and the next moment, everything was more focused and intense and heightened, and her body seemed weightless but also stronger than she’d ever been. It was weird as all hell, and she decided to put it down to a delayed adrenaline rush from her workout. She sprinted another lap in record time.

Rounding the track one more time, she stopped to grab some water and stretch out her hamstrings. No sense in overdoing it, even if she was feeling pretty damn great. She was rolling her shoulders and about to get up and keep running when she sensed the presence of something behind her. She dismissed it at first, hearing nothing but the chirping of a few crickets and some distant sounds of traffic, but decided to humor whatever bullshit “sixth sense” thing her subconscious had cooked up and turned around.

A woman stood silently several meters behind her. Shaw hadn’t registered hearing or seeing her approach, but there she was. “Hey, Slayer. Was wondering when you’d finally notice me,” said the woman, her voice light, feminine, almost girlish. She was tall, had more than half a head on Shaw, with long, ashy brown hair and understated, delicate features offset by her all black ensemble and boxy leather jacket. Shaw was so struck by the fact that this weird stranger was, in all honesty, kinda hot, that she forgot for a moment about the creepy lurking and whatever the hell a slayer was.

“You talking to me?” Shaw asked her, even though the answer seemed sort of obvious.

The brunette woman shrugged. “We’re the only ones out here, aren’t we?”

Shaw shrugged back and made up her mind that whatever bullshit this stranger was on, it wasn’t her problem, no matter how hot said stranger might be. She ran another lap, still barely winded, only to find the woman right where she’d been a couple minutes ago.

“You need to come with me,” the woman said firmly, looking at Shaw intently as she finished up her lap. 

“Excuse me?”

“Not enough time to explain, but it’ll become clear soon enough,” was the woman’s response, which really wasn’t an answer.

Shaw rolled her eyes and walked right up to the brunette, really starting to lose her patience. “Listen, I don’t know what the fuck your problem is, but it’s been a long day, and I don’t have time for whatever the hell this is supposed to be.”

“Your friend Joss is in trouble.”

In less than a second, Shaw was gripping the woman’s shoulders in a tight vise (which was actually pretty difficult, seeing as how  _ tall _ she was), single minded and furious. “What did you do with Joss? Did you hurt her?”

“I didn’t hurt your friend,” she responded patiently, as if explaining something to a small child. “I’m trying to help you. She’s in trouble, the visions told me.” Before Shaw had a chance to interrupt with how absolutely insane that sounded, she continued. “You need to come with me. If I’m wrong and you follow me, you waste a few minutes of your time. If I’m right, which I always am, and you ignore me, that’s Joss’s life on the line. Your call.”

Shaw suspiciously dropped her hold on the woman’s shoulders and took a step back. “For the record, I think you’re fucking crazy, but I’m not taking any chances. Fine.”

The woman smiled, seemingly unbothered by Shaw's assessment of her mental state. “Good. That’s the right choice.” She stuck her hand deep in her jacket pocket and pulled out something that basically amounted to a large, pointy, wooden stick and handed it to Shaw. “Go for the heart. I’m Root, by the way. Let’s go.”

She set off at a quick pace to the exit of the track and Shaw, bewildered and clutching the pointy piece of wood, was unsure what to do but follow.

* * *

Shaw walked a couple paces behind Root, whoever the hell she was, and it didn’t take long to figure out where they were going: the Bronze. It was just a few blocks off campus and ended up being a pretty popular destination for students, being the only nightlife venue in town that wasn’t totally sketchy. Instead of heading for the front door, Root turned and began to stride toward a back alleyway behind the building. Shaw was beginning to wonder idly if this was how she was going to end up getting murdered. All thoughts of her own personal safety flew out of her mind when she peeked her head around the corner, along with Root, and saw what lay in the alley.

Three people, one of them her roommate and only friend, Joss Carter ― Root had been telling the truth, after all ― stood with their backs against a wall as a group of almost a dozen others surrounded them and closed in. Shaw caught a glimpse of one of their faces but that had to be a trick of the light, because there was no way that guy was human if that was what his face actually looked like, right? 

She didn’t have too much time to ponder it, because suddenly one of the assailants had his hands on Joss and Root was whispering “Go!” and they were both sprinting into the alley. In seconds Shaw was pulling the guy, or whatever the hell he was, off of Joss, clocking him in his clearly inhuman face, and sending him sprawling.

Joss’s eyes were wide, terrified, and Shaw spared her a brief nod of acknowledgement before sending two more of the guys down to the ground with a couple of well-timed knees to the groin. She pulled another one of them off of the girl huddled next to Joss and spun around just as Root stabbed one of the attackers through his sternum with another one of those big pointy sticks and he...it...whatever it was just dissolved into dust and blew away, clothes and all, as if it had never been there in the first place.

“I said to go for the heart,” Root called out to her, which reminded Shaw that she still had a big pointy stick of her very own tucked into her leggings right next to her switchblade. She pulled it out, making a mental note to herself that this was all just probably a very strange fever dream, just in time to puncture the chest of another one of the things lunging towards her. 

Shaw did her best to shield Joss and the other two victims with her body while continuing to stake the attackers through their hearts. Root did likewise at her side. And then, as suddenly as it had begun, that was it. No more weird guys with fucked up faces trying to hurt her friend, and no bodies or anything other than a few already smarting bruises on Shaw’s face and torso to indicate that there had been any sort of altercation.

She turned around to survey Joss and the other two people who’d been caught in the crossfire. They didn’t seem to be injured, just scared and shaky.

“Shaw?” Joss said, trembling a little. “Did you see their faces? They were going to hurt us ― ”

“They didn’t,” Shaw said shortly. “We got here in time.” She turned around to face Root and ask for an explanation, but was met with just air. Root must have slipped out as soon as the threat was neutralized.

“Thank you,” said the woman standing next to Joss. She was pretty, maybe in her early or mid twenties, and clearly dressed for clubbing, not running from mysterious attackers through an alley. “You saved our lives.” She looked less shaken up than Joss, the only indication that she’d been through something traumatic, the tension in her neck and jaw. 

“What happened?” asked Shaw. “Why the three of you?”

“I think we were all just leaving at around the same time, and we got cornered,” the second girl informed her. She fiddled nervously with the strap of her dress and took a deep breath. “You got here just in time. I’m Zoe, by the way,” she said, managing a tentative smile.

The third victim, a short, curly haired man who looked to be in his late twenties or early thirties, finally spoke. “What the hell just happened there? Who are you?” The latter question was rather accusatory and clearly aimed at Shaw.

“Hell if I know,” she said, shrugging. “Well, you’re not dead.”

The man gaped at her. “We could’ve been dead! It was a close call! I’ll have you know that I’m a Sunnydale police officer and I  _ will _ get to the bottom of this ― ”

Shaw cut him off. “No offense, Officer...what’s your name?”

“Fusco,” the man informed her.

“Officer Fusco. You didn’t exactly seem like you had the situation under control when I got here, but whatever.” Fusco glared at her but stopped talking. She tended to have that effect on people.

Joss was still quiet and withdrawn, which wasn’t like her. She’d normally take charge in any situation, make sure everyone was okay and organized. Right now, she was staring blankly at the asphalt in front of her, which Shaw took as a sign that they needed to get home.

“The two of you good to get home from here?” Shaw asked Zoe and Fusco. She didn’t particularly care, and it wasn’t the sort of thing she’d usually check in about, but it didn’t make sense to just let them die right after they’d been saved.

Both confirmed yes and Shaw took Joss’s arm, gently guiding her out of the alley and towards home.

* * *

Shaw unlocked their apartment door and walked Joss over to the couch, sitting her down. Her friend hadn’t spoken at all on the walk home and still seemed jumpy and upset. 

“I’m going to make you some tea, okay?” Shaw informed her from the kitchen, trying to keep her voice low and reassuring. Joss looked up, nodded, and smiled weakly, which Shaw decided to take as an improvement from her earlier catatonia.

Their electric kettle whistled and Shaw poured hot water into Joss’s favorite mug, plopping in a peppermint tea bag and a sugar cube. She handed it to Joss and sat down next to her on the couch, putting an arm around her. This kind of affection wasn’t their status quo, and it certainly wasn’t the sort of thing that ever would have made Shaw feel better, but she knew it was what Joss needed at the moment. If only Claypool could see her bedside manner now.

After a minute or two of sipping her tea and Shaw gently rubbing her back, Joss pulled away, sat up straight, forced her breathing to become deep and steady, and composed herself. “Okay,” she said, as if testing her own voice. “Okay. I’m good. I was kinda shaken up there, but I’m good.” Shaw wasn’t entirely sure if she bought it, but she’d always admired Joss’s ability to calm down and self-regulate despite all those pesky feelings she seemed to be hindered with.

“Wanna talk about what happened, or do you think you should get to sleep?” Shaw asked her.

Joss paused a moment to consider, taking another sip of her tea and tucking her hair behind her ears. “Um, talk, I think? But just a little bit. Run over what happened. We can discuss the rest tomorrow.” Her analytical side, the side that thrived as a criminal justice student and kicked ass at debate, was finally kicking in. Thank God. Shaw wasn’t sure she could’ve sustained the whole “comfort and affection” thing much longer.

“Okay. Sounds like a plan. What do you remember happening as you left the Bronze?”

“I was leaving around the same time as those other two, Zoe and Fusco, were. Then these guys ― I assumed a gang at first ― cornered us in the alleyway. Taunts, threats, all that, except then their faces changed.” Joss shuddered. “You saw. It was nothing near what a human face was supposed to look like.”

Shaw nodded. “Yeah. That’s the part I’m stuck on. And especially if you saw their faces shift, that’s a piece of evidence that it wasn’t just crazy impressive prosthetics or some shit.”

“I don’t know how to explain it. Those were their real faces. And then one of them pinned me against the wall and he almost...made for my throat, I guess. But all of a sudden you were there, and someone else. Another woman.”

“And then we fought them and they turned into dust and disappeared.”

Joss let out a slightly terrified, hysterical laugh. “Great, so we remember it the same way, which somehow makes even less sense. Any chance we’re both hallucinating the same thing?”

“I doubt this’ll lend any clarity to the situation, but I wasn’t just there coincidentally. I was out running and that girl, the one who was fighting with me, stopped me and told me you were in trouble. But she talked to me before it happened, before you’d probably even left the venue.”

Joss’s face was puzzled, mulling over this. “So do you think she was in league with them somehow? That it was a planned attack? Then why would she fight them off, or warn you?”

“No clue,” Shaw said, shrugging. “She called me ‘Slayer,’ called herself ‘Root,’ said the visions told her you were in danger, and told me to go for the heart with this pointy stick.” She pulled the wooden object out of her waistband again to show Joss.

Joss’s eyes were going wide and frightened again, and Shaw doubted they were going to get to a productive end of this conversation. “Okay, Joss. Let’s call it a night, and we can talk tomorrow. Meet me during the lunch hour after my genetics lab?”

“Okay, sounds good. Thank you, Sameen. For everything.” Joss pulled her into a hug, and Shaw ignored the use of her own given name and even hugged her friend back. 

Shaw broke the hug, worried Joss might start crying on her or something, and stepped back. “So why were you out drinking on a Thursday night, anyway?”

“Why were you doing your evening jog at 1 AM again?” Joss countered, rolling her eyes. Shaw just laughed and headed for the shower. Joss followed her quip teasingly with an overly affected, “Good night, Sameen,” and headed for her own room, cup of tea in hand.

“Get some sleep,” Shaw told her.


	2. Chapter two

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I was reallyyyyy trying to hold off on posting this for another day just so I can space things out better but quarantine has robbed me of all of my self-control. Oops?

She woke up the next morning feeling so refreshed that she almost forgot she’d gotten in a physical fight just hours ago. Her arms, which she’d sworn last night were going to be beat up and bruised, weren’t much worse for the wear. The bruises were yellow, not purple, and looked as if they’d been healing for two weeks instead of just a couple hours.

Shaw welcomed the newfound energy, ditching her normal black coffee entirely before heading to class. There was a new TA for her genetics lab. Hot guy, tall, broad shouldered, vaguely mysterious and broody vibe. Definitely several years older than Shaw, but not like,  _ old _ . Not great at his job, didn’t seem to know which reagents were which for the most basic of protocols, but maybe it was bad luck on his first day.

So when said guy pulled Shaw aside after her lab, introduced himself as John Reese, told her to meet him in an hour and handed her a piece of paper with his phone number and an office number scrawled on it, she didn’t complain. A bit of a weird way to be propositioned, yeah, but she certainly wasn’t opposed to a casual, probably-very-against-university-policy hookup with a hot stranger. She could use the stress relief, anyway.

The office turned out to be on the third floor of the library. Shaw opened the door, chewing a granola bar she’d snagged from UC Sunnydale’s dining hall. The office was surprisingly large and spacious, with a fancy looking rug, dozens of old, antique books lining shelves all around the room, and a mahogany chair where Reese sat sprawled indecorously. A smaller, older man with round wire glasses sat primly behind a large desk and was absentmindedly stroking the head of a German shepherd next to him.

“Hello again, Shaw,” said Reese. In the few seconds since she’d entered the office, she’d realized that this definitely wasn’t a sex thing, after all. Something about the third party, the dog, and the library gave it away. Oh well.

She bent down to scratch the German shepherd's head. He wagged his tail enthusiastically at her attention and let out a pleased little whine. The man behind the desk cleared his throat pointedly and spoke. “Hello, Ms. Shaw. It’s nice to meet you. I’m Harold Finch. Take a seat, please.”

“Hey,” said Shaw, reluctantly getting up and settling herself into the chair on the opposite side of the desk. The dog whimpered a little and situated himself closer to her so she could keep petting him. “What’s your dog’s name?”

“His name is Bear,” said Finch shortly. “Now, you’re undoubtedly wondering why we’ve called you here.” Shaw shrugged. She’d figured that if she’d been called into an office, they’d fill her in eventually. “Well, I won’t mince words,” he continued. “Into every generation, a Slayer is born. One girl in all the world, a chosen one. She alone will wield the strength and skill to fight the vampires, demons, and the forces of darkness. She is the Slayer. That’s you now, Ms. Shaw.” His tone was somber, imperious, his gaze on her unflinching. She stared right back in the way she knew made other people uncomfortable sometimes. There was no question he believed the things he was saying. Normally, she’d have dismissed them as the words of a crazy man, but none of today had been normal.

Off to the side, Reese rolled his eyes and sat up a little in his seat. “You won’t mince words, Harold? Sure.” He turned his gaze to Shaw and leaned toward her. “In short, Shaw, you’re a vampire slayer. You’ve been ‘called,’ so to speak. Happens whenever the previous Slayer dies. Your job is to kill vampires and demons to keep humanity safe. Finch is your watcher, he’ll act as a mentor and a source of knowledge. I’m here to help train you as well. Any questions?” 

“Huh,” said Shaw, processing all of this. “Give me a moment. I’m thinking.” The two men waited patiently as she drummed the fingers of her right hand on the desk, her left hand still resting on Bear’s head. She didn’t think either one of them was lying, at least not intentionally. They could have some sort of shared delusion, but it lined up too well with the events of the previous night for her to dismiss it entirely, she decided. “Yeah, okay, that actually explains a lot,” she told them.

Finch blinked rapidly and leaned back, while Reese made a little noise of surprise. “That’s not quite the reaction we were expecting,” said Finch. “Typically, when confronted by the existence of the supernatural, there’s quite a bit of denial, actually.” Shaw bit her tongue and resisted the urge to inform Finch that she wasn’t what most people would call “typical.” 

“It checks out with some stuff that went down last night that I didn’t have an explanation for,” she informed him flatly. “This, no matter how strange and illogical, is an explanation.”

“What happened last night?” asked Reese.

“I was out running a little past midnight ― ” she thought she saw Finch blink in surprise a couple more times at that ― “and I got a sudden burst of energy. Figured it was just adrenaline. Not long after that, a stranger approached me, called me ‘Slayer,’ told me there was going to be an attack on one of my friends nearby. And there was. A group of about a dozen guys, guess they were vampires, were closing in on three people, one of them my friend. Stranger and I killed them. That’s all.”

“Interesting. Who was this stranger?” 

“Did the people you saved see you kill the vampires?” asked Finch simultaneously, a hint of worry tingeing his tone.

Shaw crossed her arms and shook her head in annoyance. “One question at a time, boys.” 

Reese and Finch stared at each other for several moments, saying nothing but seeming to have a nonverbal argument with just their facial expressions to see who would relent first. Finch finally sighed, apparently losing the argument. “ _ Fine _ , John. You go first.”

“Who was this person who let you know about an imminent attack?” Reese asked her.

“I take it she’s not working with the two of you, then,” Shaw said matter-of-factly. “I don’t know who she was. She said her name was ‘Root’ and she knew I was the Slayer. Said she knew about the attack because the ‘visions’ told her. Seemed kinda batshit, actually, but I guess she was right about all of it.”

Reese and Finch looked at each other again, having another short, wordless conversation with just their faces, and shook their heads. “I don’t believe I’ve heard of this person, Ms. Shaw. I’ll look into her further. Physical description?”

_She was hot. Had a nice ass_ , Shaw thought. _Wait, no, don’t say that_. “Uh...tall and thin, pale, long dark brown hair, brown eyes...really pretty.” Reese raised his eyebrows and smirked at the last descriptor but rearranged his face into the picture of innocence as Shaw shot him a death glare. She turned her attention back to Finch. “No birthmarks, scars, or any identifying features that I can recall.” Finch scribbled all this down on a legal pad, nodding intermittently.

“Now you say there were three people you saved. Did they see you and this...Root person fighting off the vampires?” Finch asked, peering at her over his glasses.

“Yeah.”

“Oh dear,” said Finch, pursing his lips together. He took off his glasses and polished them with a small cloth even though they already looked perfectly clean.

“What’s the issue?” asked Shaw.

“Discretion is of the utmost importance in all of this, Ms. Shaw. When humans know about the existence of the supernatural, it places them in more danger than they might already be in.” He sounded like he was quoting from a textbook. She idly wondered if there was a Slayer textbook she should take notes on.

“You’re welcome for saving their lives,” Shaw said sharply, not really meaning it. It wasn’t like he didn’t have a good point.

Two light knocks came on the door, making Finch start and Reese turn his head slightly. They both chose to ignore it.

“Ease up, Finch,” Reese said. “Most humans in this place prefer to turn a blind eye to the realities of Sunnydale, anyway. And Shaw didn’t know, she’d just been called.”

Finch made a dissenting noise and looked like he was about to argue when a knock at the door came again. “Oh, for goodness sake ― ”

Without waiting for a response, the person behind the door burst through, revealing herself. It was Joss. Her eyes went wide as she identified Shaw. “Shaw!”

“Oh, hey, Joss,” Shaw greeted her casually.

“This is a private meeting, could you excuse us?” Finch said, clearly irritated. 

“Oh. Sorry! I was just concerned because Shaw, you were supposed to meet me at lunch so we could talk about what happened, and then you didn’t show, so I tracked you using your phone GPS, and I didn’t think you had any meetings today because you left your planner at home and I checked it---” Joss spoke quickly, as if she was trying to see how many words she could expel before she was ordered to leave.

“This is Joss Carter. My roommate. She was there last night for the attack.”

Finch groaned loudly and massaged his temples. “Ms. Shaw, what did I  _ just _ say about discretion?”

“So this is about all the shit that went down last night,” said Joss, realization dawning.

Shaw shrugged. “Joss is my only friend, and she was there last night. She deserves to be filled in. Besides, she’s smart, she would’ve figured out what was up anyway.” Joss shot her a grateful smile. 

Reese, who up until this point had been surveying the situation quietly with a hint of amusement, finally spoke up. “No one else will be joining us, I hope?”

“No.”

“Don’t worry, Shaw doesn’t voluntarily speak to anyone but me,” Joss added. “Can someone tell me what’s going on now, please?” Shaw abruptly got up and gestured for Joss to take her seat, repositioning herself on the floor next to Bear.

“This is all highly unorthodox…” Finch muttered under his breath. He went on to repeat almost exactly what he’d told Shaw, with a disclaimer every other sentence that since Joss was human, she wasn’t supposed to know any of this information and she was sworn to complete and utter secrecy. He stopped only after Joss politely but directly asked him whether he and Reese were not also human and therefore put in danger by their knowledge of the supernatural just as much as she was.

Shaw learned that her situation was unique for a couple of reasons. At twenty years old, she was pretty old to be called as a Slayer; normally they were “called” to devote their lives to fighting the forces of darkness at fifteen or sixteen years old, a fact that even without much empathy, she was able to recognize as pretty fucked up. In most situations, the Watcher’s Council (basically a whole conference room full of people like Finch, she figured) was able to locate Slayers after their calling but before they actually had to fight any vampires. 

“I think it might be best if we answered any questions you have from here in lieu of simply continuing to bombard you with information,” Finch said.

His statement seemed to be directed mainly toward Shaw. Joss ignored this and narrowed her eyes in suspicion at Finch. “There are a lot of things here that don’t add up. But there’s one thing I’m stuck on: why just one Slayer? Why is all this responsibility placed on one person? That doesn’t sound efficient or effective, especially if I’m understanding correctly, and this whole ‘saving the world’ thing usually falls on a  _ child _ .” 

Shaw laughed from her position on the floor, thinking she saw a ghost of a smile on Reese’s face as well. This was why she liked having Joss and her low tolerance for bullshit around. Finch seemed to be caught off guard by this and coughed nervously. “That’s simply the way it’s always been done, Ms. Carter.”

“That’s not a good enough reason. Try again,” Joss told him.

“I’ll admit that there are some inefficiencies in the system. That being said, I don’t have the authority or power to question or remedy those inefficiencies,” Finch finally conceded reluctantly. “Now, does our new Slayer have any questions for us?”

“Yeah. Several,” said Shaw. “One main one. What, exactly, does my new job description entail?”

Finch visibly relaxed and some of the tension in his shoulders evaporated at a question he could actually answer. “Primarily, you will be expected to conduct nightly patrols through the cemeteries of Sunnydale, keeping an eye out for newly risen vampires and taking care of them when appropriate. You will report back to me and Mr. Reese. Occasionally, more serious threats will arise, and we will work as a team to gather information and neutralize them. Your first patrol will be this evening, with Mr. Reese accompanying you to show you the ropes.”

Shaw nodded at this. “Cool. Sounds good.”

“So you’re not even going to give her a choice in all of this? She has to take your dangerous, life-threatening, time consuming job and she doesn’t even have a way out?” Joss asked indignantly, voice tinged with a note of hysteria.

“It’s cool, Joss. I don’t mind. Anyway, what was it you were saying the other day? I needed to get a hobby besides late-night workouts and complaining about how bored I am?”

“I’m glad to hear that, Ms. Shaw,” said Finch. “Although I might remind you that this is not simply a hobby. It’s your calling. Your purpose.”

“Yeah, whatever. I get it,” Shaw said.

Finch looked as if he was going to say something else or reprimand her for her nonchalance, but Reese spoke first. “What other questions did you have for us, Shaw?”

She shrugged. “I figure I’ll just ask them later when we patrol. Where am I meeting you?”

“Entrance to Restfield Cemetery, 7 PM,” said Reese. Shaw hoisted herself up off the floor and slung her bag over her arm. “Do you have somewhere else to be right now?”

“No,” said Shaw. “I’m just hungry. And I don’t like sitting and doing nothing for so long.” She shrugged and directed her attention to the German shepherd on the floor. “Bye, Bear.” Without another word, she pulled open the door of the office and let it shut with a loud bang. 

“That was rather...abrupt,” said Finch, his voice muffled by the closed door. 

“Yeah, she does that,” explained Joss, voice unfazed. She was used to Shaw’s quirks by now. “Well, I guess I’ll be leaving now, too. Thanks for filling me in.”

“Actually, Ms. Carter, could you stay for a moment?” Finch asked from the other side of the door. Shaw paused and lingered at the door, deciding she could wait a few more minutes to grab lunch until she’d heard whatever it was the man had to say to Joss. 

“Alright,” Joss said hesitantly. “Why?”

“I’m concerned about how unbothered Ms. Shaw seems to be regarding her new position,” said Finch.

“What, you wanted her to react worse to a complete upheaval of her life?” Joss shot back sarcastically.

Shaw heard a dramatic sigh, undoubtedly from Finch. Reese spoke up, his voice lower and more muffled, but she could still make out his words. “I think Finch’s concern stems not only from how readily Shaw has accepted her role, but from her seeming lack of any emotional reaction to any of this at all. As her friend and roommate, do you think this sort of atypical reaction might be a response to the trauma of having to fight off those vamps last night and seeing your life put in danger?”

“Her odd mannerisms, defensiveness, detachment,” Finch elaborated. “It seems as if last night could have traumatized her in a way that she’s not yet willing to admit to herself or to you.”

Shaw held her breath, waiting for Joss’s response. It seemed like an eternity before Joss finally acknowledged what Finch had said. “Oh, okay, I get how it might seem that way,” she said. “But that’s not quite it. Sameen doesn’t usually mind if I have to tell people this or speak on her behalf, but it’s also not something she loves bringing up. She has a diagnosed Axis II personality disorder, and she doesn’t really interact with people or respond to things in the way most of the population does. I’ve known her since we were kids. She’s just always been that way.” There was a long, deafening silence as Joss paused, seeming to allow Finch or Reese to get in a word if they wanted to. Neither man spoke. “It doesn’t mean she’s a bad person. She’s my friend, and I love her, and I think she’s fundamentally a really good person, actually.”

Shaw was mildly grateful that Joss had brought up the whole “personality disorder” thing so she wouldn’t have to first. She supposed she should be touched that Joss was still so vehemently defending her virtue to Reese and Finch, but now that she knew what Joss had been asked to stay behind about, she was bored again and didn’t particularly want to be there for all the mushy stuff. She yawned, suddenly aware of how little sleep she’d gotten the night before, and headed out to get some lunch.


	3. Chapter Three

Reese was already lingering at the gates of the cemetery when Shaw arrived at 7 sharp. He wore a leather jacket and jeans, and in the dusky light, he could’ve been a knockoff James Dean, if you just added a cigarette, Shaw noted with mild amusement. She felt a strange part of herself, deep down, itching for a good fight. She’d been buzzing with energy since last night, and as much as she appreciated her own newfound strength, she thought she might spontaneously combust if she couldn’t work some of it off soon. “Hey, Reese. Time to patrol?”

Reese turned to face her, giving her a nod of acknowledgement. “I thought maybe I’d teach you some basic self-defense tactics first.”

“Self-defense? It’s the vamps that need to defend themselves from  _ me _ .” She was aware of how cocky she sounded, but she thought she’d earned it somewhat after the fight she’d had last night.

Reese rolled his eyes. “Sure. Keep that energy. Give me a minute, I’m going to grab some additional weapons from my car.”

She turned her back to him and listened to his footsteps in the grass as he started to walk off. Just as quickly, he was jumping her from behind, pinning her arms behind her back with his right arm and attempting to push her to the ground with his left. She had just enough mobility to dodge his punch, wriggle out of his grasp, and spin around, throwing a punch at his face. He dodged to the side of her fist, but was too slow to miss her elbow slamming into his windpipe and her knee to his groin. 

“Not bad,” said Shaw wryly, as Reese lay prone on the wet grass. “I think your tactic would’ve worked on most people.”

“Okay...you got me. Guess my lesson on self defense wouldn’t have been too helpful after all. Give me a minute, alright?” He pulled himself up, and shook his head when Shaw offered her hand. “That wasn’t just your Slayer strength, was it? You have prior training.”

His guess wasn’t wrong. She’d had a lot more strength than she normally would’ve, faster reflexes, more power behind her punches, but the moves themselves weren’t new. “Yeah, I learned some krav maga in high school. For fun.” He shot her a perplexed look at this new information, but didn’t say anything.

“Yeah, Finch. I’m okay,” Reese said out of nowhere. “Looks like our girl’s a pretty damn good fighter already.” He turned to Shaw, and elaborated at her quizzical expression. “Finch is here with us over Bluetooth.”

“Does he  _ have _ to be? You’re already here. I don’t need two babysitters.”

Reese shrugged. “I suppose it’s alright if I mute him for the time being.” He flicked at something by his left ear, apparently disabling it. “Done.”

They headed into the cemetery at a brisk pace. Reese explained the general path through Sunnydale’s cemeteries she’d take during patrols, and they walked quietly for a while in companionable silence.

They hadn’t seen any signs of activity yet, and Shaw was starting to get bored. “What’s your background? Military?” she asked Reese, trying to find something to talk about. Despite the fact that she’d won their little sparring session, he’d had some good moves, good instincts, and there was something about his mannerisms that seemed on edge all the time.

“Good guess, yeah. I was a Marine. I enlisted right out of high school and completed my service just a couple months ago.”

“Cool,” Shaw said, with a genuinely approving nod. “I applied to the Naval Academy, but my disciplinary record in high school was just a little too colorful for them to accept me. Why’d you end up here?”

“Same reason I left the military. My girlfriend, Jessica, was killed. We were high school sweethearts, together for nine years. I was going to propose.” He rattled it off evenly, practiced, no more emotional than someone might sound when talking about the weather, but Shaw didn’t miss the tightness that crept into his jaw and shoulders at the subject. 

He was good at disguising his emotions, sure, but there was clearly a lot under the surface that the man needed to go to therapy for. She was glad the meeting this morning hadn’t turned out to be the illicit hookup she’d assumed it was — Reese seemed like the kind of guy who would provide some decent but not thrilling missionary, then start trying to unload all his trauma and emotions on her post-sex. Hard pass.

She’d never been good at comforting people, especially with grief. “Wow, uh, I’m sorry to hear that,” she told him awkwardly as they continued to walk through the graveyard. “What happened?” Before Reese had a chance to respond, she sensed a quick movement in the corner of her eye, something darting into the trees. She crept up, her stake ready, and something lunged at her from behind, not unlike how Reese had tried to attack her earlier. Now face to face with it, she could see its face morph from that of a regular, unassuming looking human man, to what she’d seen in the alleyway the night before: a bumpy, ridged, monstrous perversion of what a human face should look like. She slammed her stake into his chest and watched, fascinated, as his body crumbled into ashes and then nothingness.

“Good. Nice one,” Reese commended her. They fell back into step in their path around the cemetery, and she thought Reese might drop the subject, but he finally continued. “Vampires got her,” he said, his voice a little hoarse. “After that I killed a lot of them. Eventually the Watcher’s Council found me, brought me on. Not typical for them, but I guess they thought it was better than me being a freelancer. They decided to station me and Finch here just a week ago, not knowing there would be a new slayer called so soon.”

“Lucky coincidence?” 

Reese gave a little half smile at that. “Sort of. Sunnydale is what’s called a ‘hellmouth.’ Center of mystical and demonic activity. It’s why there’s a lot more vampires and demons here than other places, and we’ve noticed that new slayers tend to be called near hellmouths. There’s a big one in Cleveland, Ohio, too, so I wouldn’t be surprised if they’d stationed a watcher out there too just in case.”

“Cleveland, I get,” agreed Shaw. “That place is pretty close to hell on earth.”

“Honestly, I’m surprised,” said Reese, ignoring her comment. “I thought I’d have more than a week between moving here, meeting Finch for the first time, starting a new job as a cover, all that, before anything really happened. Not complaining, though. I don’t do well with downtime.”

“Wait,” said Shaw, stopping in her tracks. “You and Finch met  _ a week ago _ ? No way.” She thought of their weird nonverbal communication thing and clear annoyance mixed with fondness the two already seemed to have for each other that she’d witnessed in Finch’s office.

“What, why?” asked Reese, brow furrowed and seeming genuinely baffled.

Shaw shrugged and started to walk again, Reese falling into step behind her. “You guys already seem like an old married couple.” Reese let out a vaguely strangled choking noise not unlike the sounds he’d been making when she elbowed his windpipe. She decided to take mercy on him and change the subject. “So, how do you kill these things? Just stakes through the heart?”

“Good question,” Reese said, considering. “Yeah, you can stake them, but it has to be a wooden stake. That’s just what I’ve been told. Apparently if you stick them with a piece of plastic in the heart it’ll hurt like hell but won’t actually dust them. Haven’t tried it for myself, though.”

“Weird,” said Shaw. She made a mental note to ask Finch about that. “Anything else?”

“They burn in sunlight after a few seconds, but most aren’t dumb enough to be out during the day. Burn in regular fire, too, actually. Something about them is extremely flammable. You can cut off their heads, but that’s not normally the most convenient way. Works in a pinch, though.” Shaw had a sudden and vivid mental picture of what it might be like to have to saw through a vampire’s neck with her tiny switchblade. “Religious paraphernalia hurts them, especially holy water.”

“Interesting.” The dedicated college student in her felt like she should be taking notes, even though she knew it was unlikely she’d forget anything. “What about stuff that would definitely kill a human, like shooting them in the head?” She could think of examples a lot more creative and vivid than that, but despite Reese’s cool exterior, she doubted he’d enjoy the collection of ideas she’d just come up with of things you could do to almost-but-not-quite kill a vampire.

“Also haven’t tried it myself. My guess is that it would be extremely painful and incapacitate it indefinitely, but not dust it.” 

“Huh.” Maybe she’d have the chance to test that experimentally sometime.

* * *

One hour, two vamps staked, and three cemeteries later (seriously, the sheer number of cemeteries in this town should’ve been a red flag that something was up), she was a little sick of the company. Reese was actually pretty okay, as far as people went, and she didn’t mind his presence as much as she’d expected, but that didn’t change the fact that she preferred to be alone. 

“Look, Reese, I appreciate you trying to help me out and all, but I think I’m good. I don’t need adult supervision or whatever this is supposed to be.”

Reese gave her a long, appraising look. “Fine, I’ll head out,” he eventually agreed. “Call me if you need help, but I think you’re already at the point where you can take care of yourself.”

“Thanks.”

He turned to leave, walking several strides away before pausing and calling over his shoulder. “Oh, and Shaw?”

“Yeah?”

“If you see this mysterious Root again, can you try to get us some  _ real _ information beyond how pretty you think she is?” His face wore a self-satisfied smirk. _What a bastard._

“Fuck off, Reese,” Shaw yelled back at him as he strode off, flipping off his rapidly retreating back and letting out a frustrated sigh.

A moment after Reese had made his exit, Shaw heard a faint rustle in the grass and the sound of footsteps. She whirled around, stake in hand, only to see Root quietly emerge from the shadows surrounding a nearby crypt. Her smile was soft and enigmatic, and as she approached with feline grace, Shaw was struck again by just how beautiful she was---her face and cheekbones and nose all delicate contours and edges.

“Ugh, I thought the big lug would never leave,” Root said, her voice breathy, flipping a strand of her dark hair over her shoulder as she reached Shaw. 

Shaw was suddenly conscious of just how much Root didn’t seem to grasp the concept of personal space and how deeply entrenched in Shaw’s personal bubble the other woman currently was. To step back, move away, would be to admit discomfort and defeat, so Shaw allowed it. She was close enough for Shaw to smell a faint, vaguely floral scent emanating from her hair. Her shampoo, maybe? 

Shaw shook herself out of her musings and spoke, her voice rougher than she would have liked. “What the hell? How long have you been lurking?”

Root raised her eyebrows, a smile playing at her lips. “Lurking? Hmm, I don’t like the connotations of that.”

“Fine, then. Stalking,” Shaw said flatly.

“Long enough to hear that you think I’m pretty,” Root said, somehow leaning forward even further into Shaw’s personal space, her long hair tickling Shaw’s neck. She wasn’t  _ wrong _ , and yeah, Shaw had just been caught up in thinking about her stupid face again, but who the hell would say that?  _ Who flirted that blatantly? Oh, god, was she flirting? _ Shaw almost choked on her own tongue and struggled to come up with a response, before Root smirked and lowered her voice as if letting her in on a secret. “Don’t worry. I think you’re prettier.”

Mercifully Root backed away a couple inches, enough for Shaw to turn around and start walking. It wasn’t that Root had unnerved her, she told herself. People didn’t unnerve her. She just had to get back to her first patrol. “So, are you just here to annoy me, or are you going to warn me about another impending attack on one of my friends?”

She spared a quick glance at Root, who had fallen into step beside her, her long legs and height making it easy for her to keep up with Shaw’s speed walking. Her eyes were wide and her face contorted into an expression that Shaw thought was supposed to look innocent. “Who says I can’t just be here to spend some time with you?” 

“I want answers.” Shaw clenched the stake in her hand so hard she knew her knuckles were probably white.

“Well, since you asked so nicely...my favorite color is sky blue, and I like lemon poppy seed muffins,” said Root, letting out a light giggle.

“Fascinating, but I want to know who the hell you are, why you showed up last night when you did, and how you knew about the attack and me being called as the Slayer.” She fixed Root with her most menacing gaze, the kind she reserved for when people were  _ really _ pissing her off, but the smug smile didn’t leave Root’s irritatingly pretty face.

“Who am I? I’m just a mysterious and very pretty stranger, according to you.”

God, she was going to murder Reese the next time she saw him. The idiot just  _ had _ to go and repeat something she’d said in a graveyard at night where basically anybody could hear, and now Root was never going to let it go. “Look, I don’t think I’m authorized to kill humans for this job, but I might just make an exception for you if you keep this up.”

Root put a hand on her shoulder tentatively and Shaw fought the simultaneous, conflicting urges to jerk away from her and lean into her touch. “I’m a friend. I’m here to help you, Sameen.” She paused, staring into Shaw’s eyes with what seemed like earnestness. “If you’ll let me.”

Shaw was absolutely, definitely, certainly not staring into the depths of Root’s eyes when she was suddenly tackled to the ground by an assailant. Another vamp. She wrestled with it for a moment and managed to get it pinned down on its back. Root stood a few paces away, watching dispassionately. Underneath Shaw, the vampire’s face shifted back to its humanoid form, that of a man who appeared not much older than herself, as she prepared to drive her stake into its chest. She’d admit that there was something a little icky about killing something that looked just like a human, but if the vamp was counting on that to save him, it wouldn’t work. She staked him and watched as he turned to dust under her.

“Thanks so much for the help,” she said to Root in the most sarcastic tone she could muster once she’d gotten back on her feet. 

Root shrugged. “You had it under control, didn’t you?”

“Seriously, what are you here for?”

“I understand if you’re reluctant to trust me, Sameen. But there’s a threat rising up in Sunnydale, and you’ll want me on your side when it comes. I’d suggest you tell your watcher and hit the books.”

She turned and began to walk away. It took Shaw a few seconds to register that she was actually leaving for the night. “Wait, that’s it?” she called after Root. “You’re not gonna give me any more clarification than that?” Only Root’s laughter drifted back to her in response.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi Internet, I'll love you forever if you comment <3


	4. Chapter Four

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So sorry for the late update, guys! This story is not abandoned, I’m just back in school and having a hard time finding time in my schedule to write and edit. But I’m still committed to working on this! The next several chapters are mapped out in detail but I’m open to plot suggestions long term.

Shaw pulled open the door to Finch’s office. Reese and Finch were already in deep, animated conversation over a box of pastries and two steaming mugs (Well, Finch was intently explaining something to Reese, and Reese seemed slightly less stoic than usual, anyway). It took a moment for them to notice her entry.

She bent down to scratch Bear, wagging his tail excitedly, on the scruff of his neck. “Hey, Bear,” she greeted him, rewarding him with a rare smile. Bear licked her hand affectionately.

“Good morning, Shaw,” Reese said.

It seemed to be an attempt at politeness on his part, but she respected him too much to do the small talk thing. She settled for making fun of him instead, unable to resist taking a subtle shot at how he and Finch were just hanging out now, apparently. “Don’t you have a fake day job that you should be spectacularly failing at, Reese?” 

“My job here affords me flexibility with my daily schedule and—” 

“Now, Ms. Shaw,” Finch said, interrupting Reese’s defense of how he chose to use his spare time. “I’m sure you didn’t come here this morning just so you and Mr. Reese could squabble like children."

Shaw lifted herself up off the ground, giving Bear one final pat on his head, and perched herself on the edge of Finch’s desk. “I’m here ‘cause you said I had to be after my first few patrols to give you an update.” She grabbed a pastry from the half empty box on Finch’s desk and bit into it. “Patrols are going fine. What else do you wanna know?” Her voice was muffled as she spoke around her bite of food.

Finch pressed his lips together and gave her what she thought must be his attempt at a stern look. “Details, Ms. Shaw?”

Shaw shrugged, finishing off her pastry. “I staked some vampires. Hey, what if I want to learn more about killing them? Reese said there were other ways besides stakes.”

Finch shot her a bemused look but lifted himself up out of his chair, hobbling over to a bookshelf on the opposite side of the office. She noticed for the first time that he walked with a limp and wondered how he got it. Some kind of supernatural accident, maybe?

Settling himself back in the chair, Finch handed her a thick, leather bound book. “The Slayer Handbook.” So there was a textbook for this after all. She could work with that.

“Cool. Thanks.”

“Reese told me he let you off on your own for a while on your first night and that he didn’t accompany you Saturday or Sunday night,” Finch continued. “Did anything of note happen while you were unaccompanied?”

“Staked some more vampires.”

“Did Root make an appearance?”

 _Damn it_. She’d been hoping he wouldn’t ask that. “Once,” she mumbled in response. “She’s annoying as all hell and gave me zero useful information.”

“Funny she’d show up just for a chat,” Reese said airily, badly hiding a smirk.

“What can I say? I have an irresistible personality.”

Finch and Reese ignored her remark. “Think through your conversation with her,” said Finch. “Is there anything at all that could indicate what she’s here for?”

Shaw ran through the conversation in her mind, trying to remember if there was anything of importance besides all the blatant flirting. “She mentioned something super vague about a great threat coming to Sunnydale, but then she left, and she didn’t exactly elaborate on what that threat was supposed to be.”

“And you didn’t tail her as she left?” Finch said incredulously. 

“I thought my job was to kill vampires,” she returned, fixing him with her iciest stare, the kind she normally reserved for guys in her classes who tried to patronizingly explain things to her that she already knew. Finch seemed unfazed.

“It might be worth focusing on this larger threat, presuming we should take her at her word. She was correct about the other attack, after all.”

“If she shows up again, I’ll follow her, okay?” Shaw was pretty sure she hadn’t seen the last of Root just yet.

Finch nodded. “Mr. Reese and I will do some research of our own.”

Reese, who had been sitting patiently through the conversation but seemed to have few contributions of his own, turned his head to look at Shaw. “How’s Joss?” he asked.

Shaw eyed him warily, confused about the sudden change of subject. “Um...she’s fine. Why?”

“Oh, uh, you know,” Reese said, smiling awkwardly. His tone was forcibly casual. “With the attack the other night, and learning about the existence of the supernatural. That’s enough to shake someone up.”

Shaw resisted the urge to laugh. “Yeah. Guess it is.” He stared at her for another moment, as if unfinished with the topic, and she caught on. “I’ll tell her you said hi. Want her number while we’re at it?”

Reese coughed and broke eye contact as Finch huffed in annoyance. “Anyway, back to the _real_ issue at hand. There are some prophecies that could line up with the ‘great threat’ Root mentioned to you. I think we should take this quite seriously, but it’s also worth noting that as of right now, we don’t know what or who she is, or if she’s truly on our side.”

“Okay.”

“I wonder what she is?” speculated Reese, drumming his fingers lightly on the desk. “A witch, maybe? Some kind of humanoid demon? You mentioned she said something about her visions. Maybe just a human with visions who’s well versed in the supernatural.”

“Don’t forget she helped me fight off that group of vamps. She’s a good fighter, too, especially for someone of her build. Maybe she’s got military training like you, Reese.”

“All quite reasonable guesses,” said Finch. “We ought to delve into the available literature right away. Ms. Shaw, you are welcome to stay and do so as well; it might prove beneficial to your learning.” 

It was phrased in a way where it wasn’t really a suggestion, but she ignored it, hopping off the desk with the Slayer Handbook in her arms. “I’ll pass. I’m a college student. I have things to do. Classes to go to.” _Food to eat_ , she added to herself, plucking another pastry from the box.

“Suit yourself,” said Reese. “We’ll be in touch if we find anything. Let us know if anything of interest happens on your patrol.”

* * *

Shaw’s patrol that night was as uneventful as vampire slaying could ever be. She staked a couple of vamps, one who had just clawed her way out of the ground, and something she could best describe as a slime demon. It was large and green and amorphous and sort of looked, in her professional opinion, like the monster from the beginning of _Ghostbusters_ , but with sharper teeth.

She’d first noticed the creature when those very sharp teeth sank into her arm. She still didn’t know what that thing was, or how she was technically supposed to kill it, but it was definitely some kind of monster. Hacking at its limbs for a while with the larger knife she’d taken to keeping in the waistband of her leggings seemed to do the trick, but she made a mental note to see what the handbook said about unidentifiable demons.

She sent Reese a quick update text, including her kill count for the night and an attached screenshot from _Ghostbusters_ to give him an idea of what her monster had looked like, then headed home. It was around eleven, and on a Monday night, Sunnydale’s streets were mostly calm and uninhabited. 

Root hadn’t made an appearance that night, and Shaw had patrolled every graveyard in town. She tried to quash the tiny bit of disappointment that rose up in her. _You’re just annoyed that you didn’t get to tail her and find out more information. That’s normal_ , she reassured herself.

Joss was lounging on the couch, scrolling on her phone, when Shaw unlocked the door to their shared apartment. “Hey, I made dinner earlier and I saved you some steak,” she said, not looking up from her phone. “Help yourself.”

“You really do know the way to my heart, Joss,” Shaw told her. Steak sounded perfect right now. She pulled her weapons out of their various hiding places under her clothing and set them on the table before starting to dig into the food.

Joss let out an audible gasp. “Oh my god. You’re hurt. What happened?” She’d gotten up from her place on the couch and approached Shaw, looking at her bloodied arm and the puncture wounds with horror.

“Oh. That.” Shaw had pretty much forgotten about the bite. She was typically so high on adrenaline after slaying that any minor injuries didn’t bother her much, and her healing had accelerated rapidly in the last several days. “Teeth happened. I’m fine. I’ve barely lost any blood.” She took another bite of steak.

“Sit still,” Joss commanded. “I’ll be back in a moment to clean you up.” Shaw didn’t bother arguing with her---the wound would probably heal fine on its own, but it hadn’t entirely clotted yet, and she didn’t want to get bloodstains on her belongings if she could help it. Joss returned a moment later with a handful of gauze and a bottle of rubbing alcohol.

“Thanks. Anyway, what’s the occasion? Why steak tonight?”

Joss’s face lit up and she stopped dabbing at Shaw’s injury with the alcohol for a moment to look up at her, face glowing. “I got that internship at the police station I applied for! I had some friends over earlier to celebrate.”

“That’s great. Congrats,” Shaw told her. “And thanks again for the steak. This is good shit.”

“Thanks! Wanna know something kinda funny about it, though? The internship, not the steak.”

“Sure, what?”

“I’m actually gonna be working under that guy from outside the Bronze who you saved a couple days ago. Detective Fusco,” she said, trying and failing to hold back a giggle.

Shaw groaned. “Oh, god. I hope he doesn’t start asking too many questions.”

“Don’t worry,” Joss reassured her, setting down the rubbing alcohol and wrapping Shaw’s arm in a bandage. “I know the rules now about civilians and who’s allowed to be filled in on stuff.” She made a quick trip to the bathroom to put away the bandages and throw out the bloodied gauze before settling in a seat across from Shaw. “So, uh, speaking of civilians...and levels of involvement...how’s John?”

“Smooth transition,” said Shaw, rolling her eyes. “He’s fine. Kinda a pain in the ass, but kinda okay to be around. He asked about you today too.”

“He did?” Joss said, eyes wide. “I mean, okay. How’d it come up?”

Shaw resisted another eye roll, taking a sharp intake of breath. “He did the same exact thing as you’re doing right now, where you’re fishing for info and failing miserably at being lowkey about it.”

“Am not!” Joss protested. “Whatever. How were your classes today? You had class today, right?” Shaw thought about teasing her a little bit more, thought of the steak, and let her deflect.

* * *

After finishing her dinner, washing the dishes, and doing a couple hours of biology homework, Shaw went to bed. She’d been sleeping better over the last couple nights. Patrols tended to wear her out to the point that she could fall asleep right away.

Her subconscious cycled through her normal set of everyday dreams, the kind of thing that could be a real memory if it wasn’t so fuzzy—taking an exam, sex, running, whatever---before finding herself in a place she’d never seen before. She blinked slowly, examining her surroundings. 

She was in a dark, expansive cavern, with a slight dank, musky smell to it. She could hear a faint dripping behind her. _Some kind of underground enclosure_ , she thought, her eyes still adjusting to the dim light, which she now realized was coming from a couple of candles artfully arranged on the ground in front of her. It was vivid, exceptionally realistic, and all her senses were engaged, but somehow she knew it wasn’t real. She had the distinct feeling that no matter how real this was, her body was still resting comfortably in her twin bed in her apartment.

Shaw tried to take a step forward to explore her surroundings a bit before realizing with horror that her feet were rooted firmly to the ground. She tried out all her limbs, sending a message to her arms to flail wildly, but they remained frozen. “What the actual _fuck_ ,” she muttered to herself, noting with faint satisfaction that she still had the ability to speak and move her face.

“Hello, Sameen,” said the gentle, pleasant voice of a man. A figure stepped out of the shadows and she surveyed him. He had a quiet, unassuming demeanor, with hands tucked into long, dark robes. His face was round and rather soft, and most of his hair was gone, despite the fact that he didn’t look much older than his late fifties. A pair of oval, wire-rimmed glasses sat perched on his nose.

“Where am I? Who are you?” Shaw asked. There were too many goddamn people lately who seemed to know who she was without meeting her first. It was getting a little creepy.

The man smiled and took another couple of steps toward her. “You must have so many questions, of course. That’s to be expected! My name is Elias. But you can call me the Master.”

Shaw scoffed. “I think I’ll stick with your name, then.” Elias didn’t stop smiling, but she watched his face flicker for just a moment to that of a vampire, but one somehow far more contorted and inhuman than any of the ones she’d seen on patrol. So that’s what he was. “What, is that supposed to scare me?” she asked him.

“I see you’re a woman not easily intimidated,” said Elias.

She forced her lips into a smile, a mocking facsimile of the amicable expression he was still directing her way. “You’re a vampire. I’m the vampire Slayer now. Do the math.”

“So you are,” he said simply. “And you’re one of a kind, aren’t you?”

“Isn’t that kinda the point? One girl in all the world, and all that.”

“You’re different from those who came before you,” he told her. “You’re not _just_ a Slayer. You’re a born killer, Sameen.” He took another step closer to her as he spoke.

“Killing things is my job now,” she told him icily.

“It’s more than that. It’s your purpose for being.” He walked around her in a slow circle, close enough to take down with a well-placed kick if her legs hadn’t been frozen. She contented herself with imagining beating him up instead. “And you don’t feel any guilt about what you do, do you?”

“Am I supposed to? I’m killing vampires and demons, not the fucking pope.”

Elias just laughed lightly. “Oh, Sameen. So human, and so inhuman at the same time.”

It bugged her that he kept using her first name, and she had the distinct sense that it was a play meant to get under her skin. “What the hell’s your point?” she asked him, gritting her teeth.

“I have a proposition for you. I’ll turn you.”

It took her a moment to realize what he actually meant. “Like, make me one of you? Why would I want that?”

He paused his pacing and stopped directly in front of her, staring at her with surprising intensity for someone who, she suddenly realized, looked a lot like her homeroom teacher from fourth grade. “You could be immortal, with so much strength and vitality that your human form right now would seem to be only a fragile husk,” he said, lowering his voice to a whisper. “You could have more power than you could ever fathom. A slayer turned is something long-speculated but never enacted. You would be at my right hand, Sameen, a pioneer in our new world order.”

Shaw would be lying to herself if she didn’t admit that some dark part of her was tempted, and she tried to be honest with herself as a general policy. The power she’d been feeling since she was turned was absolutely invigorating, and he claimed he could give her something that would make that pale in comparison. And walking around through graveyards every evening playing white knight wasn’t exactly her dream job. 

The temptation was there, but she was mostly pissed. It didn’t sound like Elias’s “new world order” or whatever would be based on pacificism and democracy, and she didn’t like what that would probably mean for the handful of people she really cared about. Joss deserved better than an apocalyptic nightmare under the rule of a madman (sure, he didn’t seem all out batshit, but the vibes he gave off were creepy as hell). Her mother, who she’d long fell out of touch with, deserved better. Even Reese and Finch, the absolute fuckers, deserved better.

Most of all, she really didn’t enjoy the implication of his words. That she was a monster. “The fact that I don’t feel things like other people doesn’t make me evil like you. It doesn’t make me a killer. I’m committed to being one of the good guys now or whatever the hell it is I’m doing, and I’d take this ‘fragile husk’ of a form over working with you any day.”

Elias raised his eyebrows, looking unconvinced but mildly amused, and she decided once and for all that she hated him. “Alright, Sameen. You’ve made your choice. Thanks for the chat. I’m afraid our next meeting might not be quite so pleasant.”

* * *

As suddenly as the dream had begun, Shaw was back in her own bed. Not that she’d ever really left. Her bedsheets were tangled and drenched in sweat—she’d been paralyzed in her dream, but it looked like her body had been thrashing around a lot despite that. 

She tended to forget her own dreams soon after waking up, so she got out of bed, grabbed a notebook, and scrawled what she remembered before it faded away. Downing an energy shot (she sure as hell didn’t feel like going back to bed), she grabbed her phone and called Finch.

“Yes, Ms. Shaw? It’s the middle of the night,” said Finch sleepily, picking up after the third ring. 

“You didn’t tell me that vampires could do _mind control_.”

“Excuse me?”

“I just had a creepy ass dream and a vampire talked to me through it. You didn’t tell me that was a thing that could happen,” she informed him, her tone accusatory. 

“Oh, I see,” Finch said, irritatingly casual. “You’ve simply had your first Slayer dream.”

“What’s a Slayer dream?”

“It’s discussed in the Handbook, if you’d like to read up on them further,” he said with a hint of reproach.

“Sorry I haven’t had time to read that cover to cover yet. I’ve had it since this morning, after all.”

“Yes, yes,” said Finch. “Anyhow, a Slayer dream is a mode of prophecy. At times, Slayers are presented with dreams that can foretell the future or act as omens. It’s quite important not to get them confused with regular dreams, but I’ve read that they typically feel quite different than the dreams one would get night to night.”

“It definitely wasn’t a normal dream. What, you think I’d call you in the middle of the night just for kicks?” A muffled _hmmph_ on the other end of the phone suggested that Finch did, perhaps, think that. She relayed the dream to him, sparing no detail until the part where Elias had offered to turn her, instead telling him that Elias had just tried to get her to defect.

“Oh dear. That’s quite concerning.” She could practically hear his frown on the other side of the phone.

“Why, you’ve heard of this guy?”

“Yes. Carl Elias, also known by his followers as the Master. He’s one of the most dangerous vampires in recorded history. He was trapped underground in an earthquake decades ago and presumed dead. I suppose he’s not dead, then, just weakened.”

“Seemed pretty alive to me,” she confirmed. “Well, undead.”

“He’s been said to have the power of manipulating dreams and human consciousness, so it’s quite possible this wasn’t a Slayer dream and that in fact he was just speaking to you directly.” 

“Great,” she said, not bothering to mask her sarcasm.

“There are quite a few prophecies I’d like to cross reference now, and of course, I’ll have to inform the Council about this immediately.” He let out a long, wearied sigh. “I’ll be in touch. Get back to sleep, if you can. You need to preserve your strength.”

She glanced down at the empty energy shot on her desk. Not likely. _Whatever_ , she thought. _I can use the extra study time anyway_. It turned out that patrolling every night wasn’t easy on her academics.

* * *

The rest of the week was a flurry of schoolwork, her internship, and patrolling at night. Her sleep was, thankfully, uninterrupted by any supernatural visits. Root didn’t show on Tuesday, Wednesday, or Thursday night, and Shaw found herself idly wondering more than once if she was ever going to come back.

Her question was answered when she entered Restfield cemetery on Friday night and Root was already there, perched delicately on a tombstone. The moon was bright and full, casting light on the planes and curves of her annoyingly pretty face, which was a thought Shaw immediately cursed herself for having in the first place. Root smiled broadly at Shaw. “Hi, Sameen.”

Shaw felt a strange warmth in her chest, almost like she was pleased that Root had finally showed up. She quashed it down as hard as she could. “And why, exactly, are you hanging out in a cemetery? Creepy, much?”

“I just wanted to see my favorite girl,” responded Root, smirking and sliding off the tombstone to approach her.

“Oh my god. You’re shameless,” muttered Shaw, breaking into a brisk walk across the damp grass, which Root, of course, followed.

“You’re in a hurry,” Root commented. “Why the rush?”

“Finch sent me to monitor some fresh graves to see if any fledges rise tonight. I’m assigned to camp out there for a bit to make sure no more baby vampires are released into the world,” Shaw found herself telling Root against her better judgment.

“Could be a long wait,” Root said with faux innocence. “Bet you’d like some company while you’re there.”

“Do I have a choice?”

Shaw took off her sweatshirt, putting it down on the grass, and settled herself on top of it, a few meters away from the graves in question. Root plopped down next to her.

“What’s that?” asked Root, as Shaw pulled out a neatly folded piece of paper from her jeans pocket and unfolded it.

“Organic chemistry study guide. Might as well get some studying in while I’m just waiting.”

“Cool,” said Root with what, bizarrely, sounded like genuine appreciation. “It must be a pain in the ass to balance schoolwork with patrolling every night.”

Shaw raised her chin a little, narrowing her eyes. “Yeah,” she said finally. “It’s hard. I don’t know how I’m gonna keep this up long term.”

Root shrugged. “You brought a study guide with you on a patrol on a Friday night. That’s how you’ll keep up. You’re efficient.” 

“Thanks,” Shaw said, a little reluctantly. She still didn’t know what Root wanted or what her game was, but the woman’s voice had sounded oddly sincere.

Root let her survey the paper for half an hour in silence, seemingly off in her own little world. Not that Shaw would know that by sneaking furtive glances at her every few minutes, of course. The cemetery around them was silent except for the sound of crickets and an occasional siren or car horn in the distance. No vampire fledglings here, not yet.

“So, what’s your major?” asked Root, finally breaking the silence and turning to Shaw. It was such an oddly mundane question that Shaw took a moment to process what she’d asked.

“Biochemistry. Well, pre-med, but there’s no specific major for that.” She paused. “But shouldn’t you know that already, with your weird vision stuff and all that?”

Root rolled her eyes. “I don’t get random info like that. I know very little about you personally except for your name,” she stated, as if it were obvious what kinds of information she did or didn’t mysteriously know.

“Oh.” Shaw knew she should press more, ask about the source of Root’s visions, find out who she really was. That’s what Finch would want her to do, anyway. But she couldn’t remember ever enjoying such comfortable silence with another person, even Joss, and she had the sense that going into interrogation mode would ruin the vibe they had going. Besides, if she built up trust and rapport, maybe she’d get more info on Root in the long run, she justified to herself.

And that’s how she continued to justify the rest of the evening, cycling through bouts of studying and silence between the two of them and breaks to chat briefly about Shaw’s life. She told Root about her asshole advisor, and about the guy in her lab last week who’d condescendingly tried to tell her she was wrong on something she knew for a fact she’d done correctly, and about how Bear was quite possibly the fluffiest dog she’d pet in her life. Root was engaged, asking questions now and then, but didn’t push too hard on any particular subject, and Shaw was struck by how hanging out with another person was actually...more than just tolerable, for once. Well, except for the shameless flirting Root directed towards her at any available opportunity.

 _I’m building rapport and trust_ , she told herself. _This is all so that eventually she’ll confide in me and I’ll be able to get more information_. She definitely didn’t notice how smooth and soft and touchable Root’s skin looked in the moonlight.

Shaw was definitely not in the middle of checking Root out again when she heard a low voice from the other end of the graveyard. Root’s head whipped around—she heard it too. 

Shaw pulled herself up to a crouching position, staying low to the ground, and crept quietly toward the source of the voice, sequestering herself behind a large crypt. She peeked around the crypt’s side and saw two figures. One was smaller, female, and oddly familiar, but her back was turned and Shaw couldn’t make out her face. The other was upwards of 7 feet tall, humanlike except for his massive size and the pair of horns sprouting out of his head.

The two figures spoke in low tones for a couple more minutes, but Shaw couldn’t make out any specifics, much to her frustration. Finally, the woman reached into her coat and handed the other figure, which Shaw was pretty sure was some kind of demon, a brown paper wrapped package. The demon gave her what looked like a sizable stack of cash in return, which she accepted with a nod and slipped into her pocket.

Both figures turned to leave, giving Shaw a brief look at the woman’s face. She pressed her body tight to the side of the crypt so she wouldn’t be caught, but she’d seen enough.

It was Zoe, from the previous week. One of the people from the club who she’d rescued from a gang of vamps. The one who’d been rather unbothered at the fact that multiple creatures had just disappeared into dust right in front of her eyes.

The whole thing was weird and suspicious, and Shaw made a mental note to check in with Finch and Reese about it later. Once she was pretty sure Zoe had left, she got up, brushing wet grass off her jeans, and made her way back to the graves she’d been keeping an eye on.

Root had vanished without a goodbye, because _of course_ she had. Shaw gritted her teeth. Guess that meant no trailing her back to wherever she lived. 

She sat back down on top of her sweatshirt, stifling a yawn, and settled in for a long night of continuing to watch freshly buried graves.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Am I writing Reese/Finch? Am I writing Reese/Carter? It’s a surprise lmao (to all of us. I genuinely am not sure about side pairings yet)


	5. Chapter Five

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Again, sorry for the long time in between updates! I'm a very slow writer. Thanks for sticking with me. There will be more and more Root/Shaw content as we go on!  
> Shoutout to Buffy episode 1.05 "Never Kill a Boy on the First Date" for letting me borrow the "Anointed One" storyline

Shaw sat sprawled indelicately in a chair in Finch’s office, her feet over the armrest. Finch had given her one of his trademark disapproving looks when she’d settled in, as if to say that he’d _really_ prefer her to sit like a normal person, but hadn’t said anything; that was good, she thought. They were reaching an understanding. Bear, as had become his usual, lay at the foot of her chair, just close enough for her to lean down and scratch behind his ears periodically. She thought she might be Bear’s favorite now.

Excellent quality time with the dog aside, she had other things she should be doing right now. “What’s so important that I had to skip my shift at the hospital this afternoon?” she asked, scowling. 

“Oh, you know. Your sacred duty to humanity, for one,” said Finch drily, with only a slight quirk of his mouth to indicate that he thought he was being humorous.

Reese laughed, clearly finding this very amusing. Funnier than it really was, to be honest. Her position in the chair didn’t offer much flexibility, but she was able to flail her leg enough to kick him lightly (although, to be fair, her kicks were pretty hard by default since her calling) in the arm.

“Ow!” he exclaimed, glaring at her. She rolled her eyes, knowing for a fact that Reese had endured multiple bullet wounds in his 27 years of life and just liked being dramatic for the hell of it about every minor injury she gave him.

Finch ignored their antics resolutely. “After your dream in which Elias spoke to you, I got in touch with the Council. They’ve provided me with a prophecy that may be relevant.”

“Why is this prophecy just making an appearance now?” Reese asked.

“It had been shelved and deprioritized because, until recently, the Council had widely believed the Master was dead. Now that we believe he may not be, the Council thought it prudent to send me their research on the matter.”

“What does the prophecy say?” asked Shaw. 

“It’s all in Latin, of course, but the Latin itself is a poorly translated version of some demon language, so it’s rather garbled. From what we can make out, it speaks of the rising of a so-called ‘Anointed One’ who will work with the Master and ‘lead the Slayer into hell.’”

Shaw mused over this for a moment. “Hmm. That’s fun.”

“When is this supposed to happen? Do we have any idea?” Reese asked.

Finch sighed, taking his glasses off for a moment and polishing them with a small cloth he’d procured from his desk drawer. “I’ve been working on decoding that all morning, but I’m not quite sure. Certain details point to several weeks from now, but I can’t pin it down. It does speak of the deaths of five people in Sunnydale in some kind of accident, though, so if we catch wind of that, it should tip us off.”

“Great, we just have to wait for five people to die,” said Shaw.

“In the meantime, I’m going to continue researching when this might happen. There are several other sources that might be relevant to check.”

“You do that,” said Shaw. Research was Finch’s problem; she didn’t need any more books in her life beyond the shitload of reading she already had for class. “Anyway, what do you think the deal was with what I saw in the cemetery last night? Zoe and that demon? Think it could be related to this somehow?”

“Perhaps,” Finch said evasively. “There’s no way of knowing for sure just yet.”

“I can tail her, try to get intel on what she’s up to,” Reese offered.

“Excellent,” Finch said. “For now, Shaw, keep patrolling as per usual and we’ll be in touch about anything we find.”

She nodded. “Alright. By the way, Joss wanted me to ask both of you about how she can get more involved.”

“‘Get more involved?’” Reese parroted back incredulously. “What, does she think this is some sorority she can do volunteer work for? This is life or death.”

“Harsh,” she told him, voice deadpan as ever. “Words hurt, Reese.”

“Sorry. It’s just...she’s a civilian. She already knows too much.”

“It’s already quite dangerous that Joss is aware of the existence of the supernatural by virtue of her association with you. We can’t allow a civilian to further endanger herself,” Finch added.

“I’ve known Joss since we were kids,” Shaw informed them, pushing a little bit more. “She’s tough and smart. We could find a way to make her useful.”

“As your Watcher, absolutely not,” Finch said firmly. “Please try not to further involve her in this.”

Shaw conceded but didn’t bother to hide her eye roll. “Fine. Whatever.”

Reese pulled a map out of his pocket, smoothing it out flat on Finch’s desk. “I want to go over some new patrol routes I have planned to more efficiently cover the more active cemeteries. If you look here, this marks the entrance to Restfield…”

Reese continued to drone and Shaw zoned out, occasionally giving him vague affirmative noises to convince him that she was paying attention. She wondered idly when the prophecy was going to come true, whether she’d still be good at staking vampires with her non-dominant hand, and how Root’s skin always looked so soft and glowy in the low light of a graveyard.

* * *

_John Reese, 4:34 PM_

I was able to identify and engage with the target last night.

_Sameen Shaw 4:57 PM_

You mean Zoe?? God will you please talk like a normal person

_Sameen Shaw 4:57 PM_

Like we get it Reese u were in the military shut up

_John Reese 4:59 PM_

Yes I mean Zoe. Her full name’s Zoe Morgan. See if Joss can find any info on her down at the station, if she wants to be more involved with this. Past arrests, anything.

_Sameen Shaw 5:00 PM_

Or you could grow the hell up and text Joss about it yourself if you wanna talk to her so bad

_John Reese 5:01 PM_

Can you once in your life be a professional?

_Sameen Shaw 5:01 PM_

No lmao

_Sameen Shaw 5:02 PM_

K so what did you find out

_John Reese 5:03 PM_

Unfortunately, not much. She’s very evasive and good at avoiding questions. A handful of things, but nothing that directly points to what she might be caught up in.

_Sameen Shaw 5:04 PM_

Please tell me you didn’t interrogate her in a way where you might’ve tipped her off

_John Reese 5:05 PM_

No, I didn’t. I tried the Bronze, and she was there. I was able to just approach her and start a conversation.

_Sameen Shaw 5:06 PM_

Can you tell me even one fact that you successfully learned about this woman?

_John Reese 5:08 PM_

She’s 23 years old and she’s a UC Sunnydale grad with a degree in business. Grew up in town and said she’s had family here for generations. Vague about what she currently does with her degree, but she implied she works in conflict resolution and mediation with local businesses.

_Sameen Shaw 5:09 PM_

Ok, that’s a start, I guess. We can try researching the name Morgan and see if there’s any historical records about her family. 

_Sameen Shaw 5:10 PM_

She could be a vamp, maybe? A weird one, sure, but we haven’t seen her in daylight and if she was part of the Order of Aurelius, that could maybe line up with the “family here for generations” part

_John Reese 5:11 PM_

She’s not a vampire

_Sameen Shaw 5:12 PM_

I know she probably isn’t but we have to keep our options open

_John Reese 5:12 PM_

No she definitely isn’t

_Sameen Shaw 5:13 PM_

What makes you so sure?

_John Reese 5:13 PM_

She has a heartbeat, she’s not room temperature, and she doesn’t combust in sunlight

_Sameen Shaw 5:13PM_

???

_Sameen Shaw 5:17 PM_  
Oh my god REESE

_John Reese 5:17 PM_

What?

_Sameen Shaw 5:18 PM_

You slept with her in the name of reconnaissance, didn’t you

_John Reese 5:19 PM_

No

_John Reese 5:20 PM_

Why would you assume that

_Sameen Shaw 5:21 PM_

You’d probably only know about her heartbeat and her body temperature if you were in pretty close contact with her, and you’d only know about the sunlight thing if you also saw her this morning, ie someone stayed the night

_John Reese 5:22 PM_

Okay fine yes 

_Sameen Shaw 5:23 PM_

Please never talk to me about professionalism ever again

_John Reese 5:24 PM_

We ruled out she’s not a vampire so there’s that

_Sameen Shaw 5:25 PM_

Good to know what “identify and engage with the target” actually means for you 

_John Reese 5:26 PM_

Shut up Shaw

_Sameen Shaw 5:26 PM_

I hope you know I have major leverage now bc I know you probably dont wanna share this scintillating info with Harold or Joss 

_John Reese 5:29 PM_

Who the hell uses the word scintillating in a text

_Sameen Shaw 5:30 PM_

Don’t try to change the subject

_Sameen Shaw 5:30 PM_

Anyway, as your friend? Nice pull. Zoe’s hot. Wanna do me a favor and find out if she likes girls? ;)

_John Reese 5:31 PM_

I will not do that.

_Sameen Shaw 5:32 PM_

Fine, asshole

* * *

After wandering aimlessly around the UC Sunnydale science building for a little while, Shaw finally spotted Reese. He was pushing a little cart of bottles and clean glassware through the hallway. She wondered how easily he’d blow his cover if anyone actually tried to ask him any technical questions about his job, but dismissed the thought. There were important things to attend to now, and taunting Reese about his ineptitude could wait.

“Reese!” she hissed at him across the hallway, trying to be surreptitious.

“Shaw?” he said, sounding mildly surprised, as if he’d forgotten again that she was an actual student and not just the Slayer. “I’m at my day job. You can’t talk to me here.

“This is urgent,” she told him. “Joss found out through her internship at the station that five people died in a freak accident last night.”

“What kind of accident?”

“Car crash. I guess some of the injuries are suspicious enough that the officer Joss is working under has questions, and nobody can figure out why the car would just swerve off the road suddenly in the middle of the night.”

“Maybe they were trying to avoid hitting a deer,” Reese said flatly, starting to walk down the hallway again and unlocking a door to one of the labs. “That’s not that unusual.”

“Why are you trying to dismiss this?” asked Shaw, more than a little annoyed. “Five people died. The whole thing is that if five people die suddenly, we know there’s some crazy prophecy shit about to go down, yeah?”

Reese sighed. “After further research, Harold’s predictions indicated that the Anointed One wouldn’t rise for at least a couple more weeks. I think this is premature. And again, I’m at work.”

“The two of you made me miss work last week just to inform me that this goddamn prophecy existed, so drop your superiority complex, Reese. Anyway, I’m just trying to let you know that I think this is worth checking out.”

He seemed to consider this for a moment. “Fine,” he eventually agreed. “But Finch isn’t going to be happy that you involved Joss in this after we specifically asked you not to.”

“Oh no,” she said, mustering as much sarcasm as she had the energy for. “Finch isn’t gonna be happy with me? How will I cope?”

Reese muttered something under his breath that sounded suspiciously like name-calling, and she made a mental note to punch him later when he wasn’t undercover as the worst lab tech UC Sunnydale had ever seen. 

“I’ll text you and Finch details and where you both should go after work,” she informed him. He opened his mouth as if to protest but she cut him off. “Don’t argue. I’m the Slayer. I have planning authority on this one.”

* * *

It wasn’t a bad plan, in the end. In her opinion, at least. She wasn’t usually one for planning—the fact that Reese seriously thought she was going to comply with his new patrol map was laughable—but there was something to be said for having the power to order Reese and Finch around under her Slayer authority.

The bodies of the people killed the night prior were likely to go to one of two places: the hospital morgue for autopsy or the funeral home for embalming. Since she couldn’t be two places at once, she’d sent Reese and Finch to the hospital first to scope it out. They were under the impression that they’d be going alone, but Joss would be meeting them with Shaw’s hospital keycard and the rather flimsy cover that she was there on police business. 

Shaw knew the boys had specifically asked her to keep Joss out of it, but she thought it was probably unlikely any of them would get up to any trouble over there. She reasoned that a busy hospital was a much safer place to be than an abandoned funeral home. Of course, if most of the bodies were still over there waiting on autopsy, she’d head over after scoping out the mortuary.

Okay, so maybe it wasn’t the best thought out plan anybody had ever had. Whatever. She commended herself on at least having the foresight to wear her comfiest slaying outfit, which she’d found was, unsurprisingly, the exact same outfit she’d wear to the gym.

Her phone buzzed several times in the pocket of her joggers and she pulled it out to check it. It was Reese and Finch with several predictable things to say about Joss joining them on their mission. She ignored them and turned her phone on silent.

Shaw finally reached the funeral home, nestled in the corner of one of Sunnydale’s many cemeteries. It was locked, obviously, which she was embarrassed to say she hadn’t thought of, but she managed to jimmy it open with an expired Panera Bread gift card she found tucked away in her wallet. She locked the door behind her—if any of Elias’s vamps showed up to attack her, they’d have to figure out a way in first.

It didn’t take her too long to find the bodies. The three coffins sitting out in the open in one of the rooms were a dead giveaway. She opened up the lids, and sure enough, three adult bodies with some weird neck trauma. Not a guarantee they’d been turned, but a pretty good indicator that she should camp out here for a little while to keep an eye on them. She yawned and pulled up a chair. 

Before long, two of the three dead bodies—a middle aged man and woman—started to stir. Shaw twirled her stake in her hands idly, knowing she could dust them right away, but it seemed unfair not to give them a chance to hold their own in a fight.

Even with the head start she’d so generously given them, they fought like what they were: corpses. She had them staked in seconds, and was feeling pretty pleased with herself until five vamps poured into the room from an adjacent room, rapidly followed by seven more. She groaned. They must have come through a back door or been waiting for her.

Twelve vamps total. Possibly a thirteenth if that last dead guy woke up anytime soon. She knew she was good, but she wasn’t sure she could take twelve on her own trapped in an enclosed space. Her plan wasn’t looking quite as flawless anymore.

There was nothing to do but fight, and fight she did. She whirled and dodged around her assailants instinctively, feeling a little like she did the night she was called and fought those vamps off of Joss and the others--only this time, she was fighting for her life, not someone else’s and no one else had her back. These vamps were good, better trained and more agile than any she’d seen before. Reese and Finch said it was typical for fledges to be weakest and least strategic, meaning these guys must be pretty old. In any case, just one of them would have proved a bigger challenge than anything she’d faced on patrol over the past few weeks.

She managed to stake one of them, then two, and for a moment she naively thought to herself that perhaps she was getting the upper hand. Then one of them knocked her stake out of her hand and it clattered to the floor, and she knew her situation had just gotten a lot worse. She couldn’t bend down to grab it without them all piling on top of her, so she went on the defensive, just trying to hold them all off.

Even with the hardest blows she could muster and full leveraging of her knees and elbows, she was panting hard and backed against the wall. In the other room, there were a few muffled knocks, then the crash of the door being kicked in and the lock broken. She faintly registered it in the back of her mind but kept fighting, managing to elbow one of her opponents in the windpipe and bring him to the ground when he got distracted by the disturbance.

Shaw heard the click of boots on the floor as she continued to hold the horde off, and watched out of the corner of her eye as a stake punctured one of the vamps in the heart and turned her to dust. As the dust dissipated, a slight figure became visible.

It was Root, because who else liked to follow her and show up where she was at the strangest of times? Her eyes were wide and faux innocent as she staked another one of the vamps, but her smirk revealed that she was feeling _very_ pleased with herself. “Happy to see me, Sam?” she asked, tone coy and flirty.

Shaw managed to throw another vamp off her and push one to the ground—they’d gone off their game as soon as they realized they weren’t just fighting against one person anymore—and growled in response. “Now is really not the time, Root.”

Root gave another little enigmatic smile in response, pulling out an extra stake fluidly from the inside of her jacket and tossing it to Shaw, who caught it in her spare hand. She staked another one of her opponents, bringing them down to eight vamps, with a couple on the ground.

They both kept fighting to the best of their ability, but it looked like the ones still standing were the fittest of the bunch. Shaw pushed one of the vamps out of her way, sending him into Root’s path, and in her peripheral vision saw him eye Root with a puzzled expression.

“Root? What are you doing here?” he asked her, so surprised that his vamp face dropped for a moment and turned human. Root took advantage of his momentary imbalance and staked him immediately. Shaw made a mental note to ask her about it later when their lives weren’t imminently in danger.

They were starting to gain the upper hand, for real this time. The vamps seemed to notice and take stock of this, and with a command from who Shaw assumed to be their leader (although when their faces were in monster form like that, they all looked more or less the same to her), they set off. One of them shoved Shaw to the ground before sprinting outside to join the rest. 

Instead of pursuing them, Root leaned down to help Shaw up, pulling her to her feet with one cool hand. The two set off in pursuit of the vamps, but after a few minutes with no trail, were forced to concede that they’d lost them.

Shaw breathed hard and put her hands on her knees, pushing back the sweaty strands of hair that had fallen out of her ponytail. She eyed Root, who seemed tired and was certainly also bruised and bloody, but wasn’t panting from their sprint like Shaw was. _Impressive_ , Shaw thought to herself. _She must have incredible lung capacity._

Groaning and trying to calm her breathing, Shaw collapsed on the ground, her body splayed out across the grass. It felt cool and soothing against her skin and she lay like that for a few moments, eyes closed. She opened her eyes to Root smiling down at her with an expression of bemused fondness.

Shaw pulled out her phone and realized she had several missed calls from Finch, Reese, and Joss letting her know that the hospital was mostly a bust but that they’d be staying there for a little while longer to monitor the two remaining bodies. She shot them a quick group text back updating them on the ambush and assuring them she’d call later with a full update.

Root had settled down next to her, cross legged on the grass. Shaw rolled over to face her. “Thanks for saving my ass tonight,” Shaw told her, keeping her voice even and disaffected. 

“Anytime,” Root said, looking like she wanted to say something else. “Your ass is too good not to save,” she finally followed up.

Shaw laughed, a real, genuine laugh, not the one she usually used to convince other people that they were funny. They sat in comfortable silence for a little while longer before Shaw finally hauled herself to her feet.

“I’ll walk you home,” Shaw offered, hoping it wasn’t too obvious that she was trying to see where Root lived.

Root smirked in a way that said she knew exactly what Shaw was doing and didn’t particularly care. “Isn’t that chivalrous, of you, Sameen.

They set off walking through the dark streets of Sunnydale, in silence that was somehow both comfortable and potent. Shaw thought about trying to hold her hand, then chastised herself at the ridiculousness of the thought. Root filled the remaining silence with occasional directions or a random comment about Sunnydale landmarks they happened to pass.

Root led the way to a corner of town with a handful of apartment buildings and motels. Not the worst place to live, but not great, either. She stopped in front of a rather unassuming gray condo. Shaw tried to peer inside as surreptitiously as she could, but the blinds were closed.

“Thanks for walking me back,” said Root softly, with no trace of teasing or sarcasm evident. 

“Yeah, of course,” mumbled Shaw, trying not to look nervous. _Nervous? Get a grip. She’s just a pretty girl._

A pretty girl who was now a lot closer into Shaw’s personal space than felt normal or friendly, peering down at her through soft eyelashes. Root lifted her hand up to brush a strand of stray hair behind Shaw’s ear, cupping Shaw’s face with her palm.

Staring into Root’s hazel eyes just inches from her own, her pupils dark with hungry intensity, Shaw decided two things. First, she definitely wasn’t going to kiss Root first. If Root wanted to kiss her, that was _her_ prerogative. Second, if Root kissed her first, she’d kiss her back.

Root’s thumb gave her cheek one last delicate stroke, her hand falling to rest on Shaw’s shoulder instead. She leaned in, her eyes lidded half shut, and Shaw parted her own lips in expectation, but Root turned her head, pressing surprisingly cool, soft lips on her cheek instead. Root pulled away after a moment and gave her a dazzling smile before unlocking her apartment door and shutting it behind her.

Shaw walked home and tried to think about anything other than how much she wished Root had gone for her mouth instead.


	6. Chapter Six

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I had lots of fun writing this one! Enjoy denial!Shaw, mom friend!Joss, and asshole!Reese.

The next couple weeks were quiet and uneventful, a rare blessing for Shaw’s schoolwork. She was still pre-med, after all. Finch and Reese seemed to have reluctantly accepted Joss into the team, despite their hesitations and their initial fury at Shaw for not keeping her out of the plans. Joss kept them all updated on the comings and goings of the police station and dodged any of the suspicious questions her supervisor, Detective Fusco, threw at her. Reese seemed to still be sleeping with Zoe and getting little information from his escapades. Shaw finally convinced Finch to let her take Bear on an occasional run. 

Root was nowhere to be seen, much to Shaw’s frustration. She and Joss had concocted a plan to give Shaw the time to scope out Root’s apartment unnoticed – the next time Root made an appearance on patrol, Joss would call her to stage a vamp attack back on campus and Shaw would send Root off to handle that while she herself “tracked a demon” across town – but all of that was predicated on Root showing up while Shaw was on patrol. 

Her window came suddenly on a Friday night, after Shaw had finished patrolling and was curled up on the couch with a mountain of classwork. Her phone rang, which meant it was Joss (Shaw had configured her phone settings to only let through calls from Joss while her phone was on Do Not Disturb mode. Finch and Reese were afforded the privilege of their calls going through to vibrate. Everyone else was irrelevant and went straight to voicemail). She picked it up.

“I was coming home from a friend’s house and I stopped by the grocery store and I see Root in aisle fourteen and I think if you go to her apartment really, really quick you might be able to get in there and look around,” Joss said, the words coming out in a rush.

“Okay,” said Shaw, already putting on boots and slipping a stake in her pocket. “Any idea how much time I’ve got?”

“Depends how long she shops for,” said Joss, keeping her voice low. “But you’re closer to her apartment right now than she is, if I’m remembering right where you said it was. If you run there and she takes a few more minutes to shop, you’ll maybe be fifteen minutes ahead of her?”

“A challenge. Nice,” said Shaw, smiling a little. And she’d thought her Friday night would be boring.

She ended the call with Joss and set out on a brisk run towards Root’s apartment. She knew she could pick the lock if she needed to, but something told her Root probably had bad judgment about leaving an emergency key under her doormat or something.

The emergency key actually turned out to be under a potted plant, but her point still stood. Shaw unlocked the door and pushed it open, grimacing at the loud creak it made. She knew no one was home and she didn’t have to worry about volume, but making more noise than needed still seemed foolish.

After groping around on the inside of the wall for a moment, she found a light switch and the apartment was illuminated. It was a small studio, sparsely furnished and decorated. Not much on the walls other than a couple of abstract paintings. Solid navy blue bedspread. A nightstand with a generic looking lamp, a bookcase with a few classic novels that Shaw recognized from being assigned to read them in high school. Kitchen table, and a desk covered with computer equipment. The windows were completely obscured in thick, dark gray curtains. There was nothing wrong with some spartan decorating, of course, but it did strike her that the studio was more bare and unadorned than some of the dorms of straight college guys she’d hooked up with, and that was saying something.

She walked over to the desk and computer equipment to examine it more closely. There were two large monitors, a router, a stack of programming books, and a whole bunch of other crap that Shaw didn’t recognize. She’d never been into computers herself. Still, she could tell that it was expensive stuff. Weird. For some reason, the “mysterious stranger who shows up at opportune times in graveyards” vibe Root had cultivated didn’t seem to mesh with being a big tech nerd. 

Shaw tried the computer but of course it was password protected, and that could take ages to guess at. She walked over to the nightstand instead. Next to the lamp was a small, framed photo of Root (which was a relief, honestly – with all the lack of personalization of the apartment Shaw had been starting to wonder if she’d just broken into some random stranger’s place) and another girl. Root looked younger, although Shaw wasn’t quite sure how much younger, the planes of her face softer and sweeter and her smile wider and more genuine than Shaw had ever seen it. Her cheek was pressed up against that of the other girl, whose arm was flung around Root’s shoulders. She looked to be around the same age as Root in the picture, and she was pretty, with a heart shaped face and an equally wide smile.

Shaw knew about as much about photography as she did about computers, but she could tell that the photo was on film, not digital. It had a touch of graininess to it that made it look timeless. As oddly captivating as the photo was, there was no real information there, so Shaw resolved to check Root’s drawers and closet for anything else in a moment. She wasn’t quite sure what she was looking for or what she wanted to find, although a journal with a detailed and comprehensive life history would definitely be nice, albeit unlikely.

But first, water. Even as the Slayer, she had hydration needs after sprinting for any sustained period of time. She wondered if Root had plastic water bottles in her fridge.

As it turned out, Root did not have plastic water bottles in her fridge, just copious amounts of blood.

Shaw had never had any reason to doubt her own perception of reality prior to becoming the Slayer, but when confronted with a fridge full of blood, she had to question whether she was really seeing what she was seeing. She closed the refrigerator door and opened it again. The blood was still there.

After mentally accepting that yes, Root’s fridge was filled with blood, and yes, that probably meant exactly what Shaw thought it meant, Shaw took inventory of the fridge situation. The top shelf of the fridge was lined with one-pint blood bags, which she was used to seeing at the hospital. The second shelf had a neat row of plastic to-go containers, the kind you’d use to bring extra soup home from a restaurant, and were labelled in neat handwriting with the name of an animal, followed by a date. “Pig, March 4” and the like. She figured that meant pig blood that had been obtained on that date, which was a little gross, but not terribly disturbing. 

The part that chilled her the most, and probably would have compelled her to shut the fridge if she’d been the squeamish type, was the lowest shelf. An array of bottles and containers with the original labels ripped off (was that an Odwalla bottle filled with blood?), were also lined up and labelled with a name and date. But these containers, unlike the ones on the shelf above them, didn’t have “pig” or “goat” or “cow” or even “deer” written on them. They had the names of people, mostly men. _ Peter Arndt. Andrew Benton. Alan Fahey _ .

Seemingly at odds with the rest of the fridge’s contents was a small Chinese take-out box. She opened it out of morbid curiosity, wondering what it contained. It ended up just being some leftover kung pao chicken, and she closed the box. The freezer had much of the same---blood bags, animal blood, creepy containers with peoples’ names on them – as well as a few pints of Ben and Jerry’s ice cream. 

Shaw had closed the freezer door and was halfway across the studio, planning to check the drawers, when she heard a key turn in the lock and the door open. There was Root, as annoyingly stunning in her dark jeans and leather jacket as ever even if she’d just been revealed to be a blood sucking monster.

“Aw, Sam, you came to surprise me,” said Root with her trademark smirk, striding up to Shaw. She seemed strikingly unbothered by Shaw breaking into her apartment.

Shaw crossed her arms, saying nothing, and shot her a death glare. She tried her hardest to think about how Root was a habitual blood-drinker and not how flowery and good she smelled.

“Why are you in my apartment?” Root finally asked, a tinge of concern entering her voice. 

“I broke in,” said Shaw coolly, finally gathering her thoughts and deciding to go with the truth. “Are you a vampire?” 

Root’s eyes widened and she squared her shoulders, taking a step away from Shaw. Her lips parted as if to speak but she said nothing. 

“I’m gonna take that, and the massive amount of blood in the fridge, as a yes,” Shaw said, her voice still calm and modulated. She could feel an undercurrent of fury in her own body, so powerful it almost made her tremble, but she forced herself to stay focused.

For the first time since Shaw had met her, something resembling fear crossed Root’s face. Fear at her, Shaw, when Root was the one who’d been lying this whole time and who was a goddamn  _ vampire,  _ and of all the people to look at her like  _ that _ (afraid, timid, aware she might lash out and ready to protect themselves from the consequences) Shaw had never thought it would be Root. “I can explain,” she said hesitantly, her voice wavering, and for some reason that broke the dam holding back Shaw’s rage.

“Oh, you can?” Shaw exploded. “Can you explain why you’re a vampire and I’m the Slayer and yet you  _ still _ keep showing up to antagonize me all the time?” She was yelling now, she knew that, but she couldn’t think of a single reason to hold back. “Can you explain why you deliberately hid who you actually were?”

“Please let me – ” Root cut in desperately, holding up a hand as if to emphasize her need to speak. Shaw didn’t let her continue.

“No,” Shaw said. “What the fuck was your game here, Root? Why did you lie to me?” Dimly, she knew in the back of her mind that the obvious answer to her last question was simply Root trying not to get herself staked, but she didn’t feel like being rational. Root opened her mouth again, evidently still not getting that these were rhetorical questions. “You don’t get to talk,” Shaw told her roughly. “There is no possible explanation that is gonna make this okay or make sense. Stay the fuck out of my way and I’ll let you live.”

She pushed Root out of the way to get to the door. Root stumbled to the side, looking like a kicked puppy. Shaw couldn’t figure out why Root would bother keeping up the emotional manipulation act once she’d already been exposed, and did her best to ignore how Root’s wounded, tear-filled eyes were still fixed on her as she slammed the door behind her and stalked off.

Almost on autopilot, she texted Finch and Reese, telling them to come over to her apartment for an emergency meeting, and sent Joss a heads up that they’d be having company, but her mind was elsewhere.  _ You should’ve killed her _ , the voice inside her head echoed over and over again.  _ Why didn’t you? _

Root wouldn’t be easy to kill, she reasoned to herself. She was a good fighter, and she had years of experience on Shaw. But Shaw knew that wasn’t really it. As the Slayer, she could take Root in a fight, even if it might be a bit of a challenge. She ran through why else her instincts might have been screaming at her to spare Root’s life. _ Root could be a useful source of information? She hadn’t been the aggressor in this instance? She deserved a chance to explain herself?  _ None of those reasons held up logically when she picked them apart, though, and she wanted to kick herself for not staking Root when she had such an easy opportunity.

Her eyes felt wet, and for a second she wondered if she was crying. She banished that thought almost immediately. Sameen Shaw didn’t cry. It must be pollen allergies or something. 

She felt stupid and naive, two traits that always pissed her off in other people and that she’d never thought would apply to herself. Why hadn’t she seen the signs before? There was so much evidence pointing to Root as a vampire. Why hadn’t she even considered the possibility?

She could think of one reason why she’d ignored all the warning signs, why she’d irrationally spared Root’s life, and she took that thought and shoved it in the very back of her mind and resolved to repress it to the best of her ability.

* * *

“So you mean to tell us that the strange woman you’ve been associating with all this time is actually the enemy?” Finch’s voice was calm, even quiet, but she could tell he was even more pissed than the time Bear had chewed up a book of Medieval prophecies.

Finch, along with Joss and Reese, sat around Shaw’s kitchen table, staring at her and waiting for her response. She didn’t know what she was supposed to say to allay their disbelieving expressions. “She just seemed so…” Shaw trailed off, not knowing what she was trying to get across. Curled up under the table, Bear yipped as if to convey that he, too, was invested in the conversation. She scratched him idly with her foot.

“A vampire can convincingly imitate the actions of a person, but Ms. Shaw, you must remember that it is  _ not _ a person. It is a killer,” Finch said.

“She saved me. She helped me fight multiple times. Was it all part of Elias’s plan somehow?” Shaw couldn’t figure out how that would work, how any of what Root had done could possibly benefit Elias, but what other reason could there be?

“It must have been something like that,” Finch agreed. “No matter how benevolent she seemed, no matter how selfless her actions may have appeared at the time, vampires are soulless monsters. As tempting as it might be to justify this, they simply cannot feel empathy.”

She knew Finch was right about some of that, but the last part irked her, and she could tell from Joss’s uncomfortable expression and tense shoulders that she’d picked up on it too. “ _ I _ can’t feel empathy, Finch. You all still trust me to save the world.”

Reese had been sitting silently, his face stony, for the majority of the conversation, and he finally cut in. “I don’t know, Shaw,” he said, giving her a tight-lipped smile that didn’t reach his eyes. “Do I trust you to save the world? You’re the Slayer. I can’t believe you didn’t kill her when you had the opportunity.”

“Now, John, don’t be unkind,” Finch said. He still seemed wary and not entirely pleased with her, but she could tell he’d processed the news and was starting to see where she was coming from. He began to reach out a hand as if to put it on Reese’s arm to calm him down, but reconsidered at the last moment and drummed his fingers on the table instead. “That might have been the prudent decision after all. Only time will tell, but we still need information on Root and her motives.” 

“She’s a monster, Harold!” Reese said, raising his voice far more than she’d ever heard before. “Why can’t you see that? And  _ your _ Slayer has been sleeping with the enemy.”

Shaw rolled her eyes, both at his dramatism and at the implication that she was  _ anyone’s _ Slayer. “You know damn well that I didn’t sleep with her, Reese.”

Reese grit his teeth. “And you know that it’s a goddamn expression.”

What she said next was petty, she knew that, but Reese was being more of a dick than usual and she wanted to hit him where it hurt. “Interesting,” she said, giving her best faux sweet smile. “I wasn’t sure you knew that, seeing as you’ve been taking it pretty literally while trying to get ‘intel’ on Zoe. Has fucking her gotten you any useful information, by the way?”

It had the intended effect: Reese’s jaw tightened and both Finch and Joss were wide-eyed and alarmed. “What?” Finch said. “Mr. Reese, you didn’t tell me about this.”  _ Yikes _ , she thought.  _ He got a ‘Mr. Reese’ and not ‘John.’ Someone’s in trouble _ .

“That was not your fucking information to share, Shaw,” said Reese, leaning forward and looking like he was a moment away from trying to fist fight her.

Joss had been quiet through all of this, sipping her tea and listening to the conversation, but she’d had enough. “All of you be quiet, now. Calm down, take a deep breath, and try to behave like mature adults, okay?” They listened, even Reese, who relaxed his defensive posture. “Shaw couldn’t have known about Root. None of us knew or even considered it. And in my opinion, as a  _ civilian _ _ – _ ” At that, her eyes focused on Reese pointedly – “It’s a reasonable response to not immediately murder an acquaintance, especially when you might have feelings for that person.”

“There were no feelings,” Shaw said vehemently. Joss ignored her and continued.

“Just lay off her a bit, will you?” Joss said, addressing Reese and Finch. “This is my apartment too. If you can’t have a calm, quiet conversation about next steps and discussing the things Shaw found, you’re both gonna have to leave.”

“Yes, Ms. Carter. I suppose that’s reasonable,” Finch agreed.

“Fine,” said Reese.

“John, you owe her an apology,” Joss said sternly.

“Sorry.”

“That was a shit apology, but I don’t wanna hear you keep talking, so I’ll accept it,” Shaw told him.

“Let’s put all moral judgments aside and focus on what you found,” said Finch. “Describe what you observed.” He pulled a little spiral bound notebook and a ballpoint pen out of his jacket pocket to take notes. She wondered if he kept that stuff with him all the time.

She silently thanked whatever deity might be listening that the drama seemed to be over. “Pretty normal apartment, other than a little more computer equipment than the average person and all the blood filling up the fridge.”

“Huh,” Joss said. Reese and Finch looked equally bemused. “Never would’ve guessed a vampire would be into computers. I guess everyone’s got their hobbies.”

“Yeah, that was weird. Not much decor, besides one framed picture of her and another girl. She looks younger, so I’m inclined to say she was human in it.”

“Interesting,” Finch mused. “That could be quite useful in helping us estimate her age and therefore locate further information on her. How old do you think the photo was?”

“I couldn’t really tell by the clothes or the hair or anything, but it was in color. A little grainy, so I’d guess probably film and not digital.”

“Hmm. That could place it as early as the sixties, perhaps,” Finch said. 

“Or as late as the past few years,” Joss pointed out. “I know plenty of people who use film just for the aesthetic of it, even if they’ve got smartphones.”

Shaw elbowed her. “It’s okay, Joss, you can say you mean yourself and the giant Polaroid collection you have on your wall.”

“Shut up,” Joss said, but she was smiling.

“Anywhere in that date range does make her a bit on the young side for a vampire. In my experience, the fledges make it a couple days before being staked, and the remaining ones have all been around since the Revolutionary War,” Reese said. “You just don’t get that many middle aged ones.”

“Do all of them store blood like that?” Shaw asked. “I mean, even though that was the tipoff that she was a vampire, it still surprised me. You guys haven’t mentioned that before.”

Finch tilted his head and pondered this for a moment. “I suppose I’ve heard accounts that some of them store stolen blood bags for when the hunt is unfavorable.”

“I mean, yeah, there were blood bags, but it wasn’t just that. Animal blood and little containers with people’s names on them. It was creepy, but as a science major, I gotta admire her commitment to clear labelling.”

“Animal blood?” asked Reese confusedly.

“People’s names?” said Joss simultaneously, her face pure disgust.

“Yeah. There were a couple containers that said ‘pig blood’ on them with a date, and a few other animals too. Goat, cow, that kind of thing.”

“How peculiar,” Finch said, scrawling in his notebook intently. “I’ve never heard of a vampire who doesn’t subsist solely on human blood.”

“Okay, but can we get back to the part where people’s names were on the labels? That’s the part that’s freaking me out the most,” said Joss, her voice tinged with a note of hysteria. 

“Yeah. There were a few, also with dates. I can only remember one of the names offhand. Andrew Benton.”

Finch wrote down the name, underlining it twice for good measure. “I’ll look into it.”

“What about the visions? Is that a normal vamp thing?”

“Are you seriously that gullible, Shaw?” Reese asked derisively, evidently not done being a dick just yet. “You think she was telling the truth about that? It was just a shoddy excuse to explain why she kept showing up like she did.”

“I wouldn’t be quite so sure, John,” Finch countered. “It’s uncommon, yet not entirely unheard of for vampires to have some degree of extrasensory powers, much in the same vein as Elias being able to communicate with Ms. Shaw through her dreams.”

“Another thing for us to research, I guess,” Reese said.

Finch stood up and stretched a little. “That’s enough for tonight. Keep patrolling as usual, Ms. Shaw. If it’s alright with you as well, Ms. Carter, would the two of you like to take Bear for a couple of days? I understand it’s been a difficult night.” At the mention of his name, Bear stood up and whined, nuzzling Shaw’s leg.

“Sure, that’s fine, as long as you can drop off some food for him tomorrow morning,” Joss agreed.

Shaw crouched down and scratched Bear behind the ears. He wagged his tail. “I don’t need your pity, Finch. And don’t insult Bear by treating him like an emotional support animal. Not cool.”

“If you don’t want to take him, that’s fine too,” Finch said pleasantly.

“No,” she said, hugging Bear possessively. “He stays.”

Reese snorted. “Good night.” Finch gave Joss and Shaw a polite nod and the two men headed out side by side. 

“Good night, Sameen,” Joss told Shaw, a vaguely sad smile on her face, and retreated into her room. Shaw was too tired to protest the use of her given name.

Bear lay down on the wood floor and Shaw lay cuddled next to him, scratching under his chin periodically. Before long, Shaw’s exhaustion overtook her and the two of them fell asleep on the floor.


	7. Chapter Seven

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW for discussion of a r*pist and for various forms of violence. This is probably going to get a bit darker from here on out, so I’ll try to leave disclaimers in the chapter notes for certain content.  
> A bit shorter of a chapter, because I decided to split this and the next chapter up into two parts.

A large bouquet of flowers was delivered to Shaw’s apartment door, with a little envelope tucked into it marked “Sameen” in cursive. She was pretty sure she knew exactly who the flowers were from and she wasn’t interested in reading a note from Root somehow trying to rationalize her deception. Besides, flowers weren’t really her thing. She threw them out without looking at the note.

* * *

A Starbucks cup with her name scrawled on the side — marked a tall latte with full fat milk — was left on the bench outside one of her labs a couple days later. Shaw’s exact coffee order, still warm when she went out to take a quick break and eat a protein bar. A mini hot pink sticky note on the side read simply,  _ Can we talk? Xoxo Root _ .

She was almost positive that she’d never told Root the specifics of her coffee preferences (or, for that matter, where she lived or the details of her class schedule), which took it from simply annoying to flat out creepy. Sure, it was the kind of gesture that she might have actually appreciated had it been from someone who was, you know,  _ not a vampire _ . But Root was a vampire, and apparently also a stalker.

Throwing out the latte was harder than throwing out the flowers. Some dead plants were one thing, desperately-needed caffeine during a morning lab was another.  _ It could be poisoned or something _ , she reminded herself. Also, it was the principle of the thing. With one last longing look, she tossed it in the trash, ignoring the confused stare she got from one of her classmates.

* * *

Still uncaffeinated and grouchy, Shaw reported to Finch’s office as soon as she finished class, per his instructions. Reese wasn’t there, which was a relief. She didn’t have the energy to deal with him right now. 

She closed the door behind her and leaned back on the wall with her arms crossed. “Yeah? Why’d you wanna see me?”

Finch looked at her and pointedly looked at the chair across the desk from him. She kept her feet firmly planted by the door. With any luck, he’d get the idea that she wanted this conversation to be quick.

“I’ve obtained information on the name you told us about. Andrew Benton.”

“What did you find out?” she asked, trying and failing to feign interest.

“First of all, he’s dead,” Finch said. She rolled her eyes.  _ No shit, Sherlock. I could’ve told you that. _ “Benton was a wealthy entrepreneur who disappeared from his home in Los Angeles around a month ago and his body was found a few days later with significant blood loss. No neck injury, just clean cuts to the major arteries.” He took a sip of tea, as casual as he might be discussing the weather.

“Well, yeah,” Shaw said. “I didn’t exactly think that finding a container of his blood in somebody’s fridge was gonna end up being a good thing for that guy.”

“So far, there are no leaders on his murder. Investigation has revealed nothing of import, but I think it’s safe to say that he was Root’s victim,” Finch continued. Shaw tried not to visibly bristle at Root’s name.

She was losing her patience now. “Again, no shit, Finch.”

“But there’s more, actually,” he said with that little quirk of his eyebrows that meant he was about to say something he thought was dramatic and important. He took another sip of his tea for effect. “Andrew Benton was no saint.”

“Oh, good!” she said brightly, not bothering to rein in her sarcasm. “He was a shitty person, so he  _ deserved _ to have his blood not be in his body anymore.”

Finch eyed her sternly. “He was never actually convicted for anything, but over a dozen women have accused him of drugging and raping them. Several actually only came forward after he was found dead, having feared that if they spoke out against him, he would retaliate in some way.”

“Oh. That’s fucked up.”  _ Okay, so the guy was a total scumbag and the legal system had failed to get any justice for his victims. Maybe the world was better off without him. You still can’t go around murdering people though, right? _ She was getting a headache.

“I think it’s possible this might provide motive in some way,” Finch said. 

Shaw sighed and shifted her weight between her feet impatiently. “Look, Benton sounds like a monster and he probably got what was coming to him. But it could also be that she’s just a demon who eats people to sustain herself.”

“Perhaps,” Finch agreed reluctantly. “But there are people everywhere. Why did she pick one in L.A.? That’s a good two hours from here. Seems like a lot of trouble just to eat.”

“I’ve gone down to L.A. just for some good food before,” Shaw muttered to herself. “Anyway, you said this was around a month ago? That was after I was called. She was just trying to cover her tracks.”

Finch acquiesced and gave her a small nod. “You may be right, Ms. Shaw. Thank you for hearing me out.”

“Thanks for the update, Finch, but this doesn’t change anything. Let me know if you find out anything useful about the prophecy or Elias or whatever.”

She turned to leave, but Finch wasn’t finished. “Has she tried to contact you at all, Ms. Shaw?”

“What?”

“Has Root tried to contact you in any way since Friday?”

“No,” she lied, not wanting to get into it.

Finch scrutinized her like he knew she wasn’t telling the truth, but let it go. “Perhaps that’s for the best, then.” She glared at him, trying to communicate with her face just how much she didn’t want to talk about Root right now, and he changed the subject. “Why don’t you come over to the house later to train? Reese and I have been working on setting up a training room in the basement.”

“Okay,” she agreed. That meant she got to hit things, which sounded pretty good right around now.

* * *

It was hard not to admire what Reese and Finch had done with Finch’s basement. It was a miniature gym, albeit one focused on training her to kill things. A couple of punching bags hung from the ceiling, accompanied by a treadmill, some cloth dummies which she assumed were meant to be vampires and not humans, plenty of weights, and a set of gymnastics beams.

“Shaw,” said Reese with a nod in his usual dispassionate way. Nothing in his tone or on his face would indicate that there was still tension between the two of them from the other night, but that didn’t mean much. The man didn’t exactly specialize in a wide variety of facial expressions. 

“Reese,” she greeted back, meeting his same level of monotone. 

She decided to try out one of the punching bags and started going at it, not bothering to wrap her hands or put on gloves. She healed so fast now that some of the normal safety stuff just didn’t matter anymore.

Reese watched her as she beat the shit out of the punching bag. One of her knuckles split, getting a streak of blood on the bag. 

“Put on some gloves, Shaw,” he told her.

She knew he was right but didn’t feel like agreeing with him. “No.”

He let out an audible sigh, letting her keep going for a few more minutes before speaking again. “Look, Shaw, about the other night — ”

“It’s fine.” She took a step back from the bag and shook out her arms a little.

“I realize I may have been too quick to judge,” Reese said. 

It wasn’t an apology, not quite, but it was close enough that she thought he might expect an apology from her in return. But it wasn’t her fault that Finch and Joss, co-presidents of his adoring fan club, might be a little less adoring after finding out about Reese and Zoe. That was entirely on Reese.

She rolled her eyes. She’d been doing a lot of that lately. “How many times do I have to tell everyone that it doesn’t matter and I’m fine?”

“Are you actually fine? Because I heard that earlier this week that you lashed out at one of your classmates, one of my students, hard enough that you made him cry after class.”

She shrugged. “He was being stupid. I was honest with him. It’s his problem if he took it the wrong way.”

“This isn’t like you, Shaw,” he said, taking a step toward her. “You’re not unnecessarily cruel to people.”

“I don’t think you know anything about me,” she said coldly.

“Yeah? I know that if you don’t grow up and start acting like an adult and communicate about your fucking problems, you’re gonna get yourself or somebody else killed.”

“Can we just train?” She asked, exasperated. “I didn’t come here to get psychoanalyzed.”

There was tension in Reese’s jaw, but he nodded and moved over to the area of the basement that had been lined with foam padding for sparring. “You have to use protective gear, though.”

“Okay,  _ Dad _ ,” she said, but complied. 

The first time she knocked him onto the ground, he lay flat on his back for a minute before getting up. “Shaw, I might have at least 50 pounds on you, but I think you’re forgetting that I don’t have Slayer strength. Don’t hold back to the point where you’re not getting anything out of this, but don’t kill me either.”

“I’m already holding back,” she told him.

They sparred successfully (well, not particularly successful for Reese, she supposed, but he was mostly unharmed and got some decent moves in) for a bit longer, but she was getting bored. So maybe she zoned out for a minute and accidentally slammed her elbow into his arm with all the force in her body. It wasn’t like she  _ meant _ to hurt him that much. 

Reese, again splayed out on the floor, his face tight with pain, glared up at her. “Go upstairs and get Finch. He’ll take me to the hospital.”

“The hospital, Reese? Did I really hurt you that bad?” She asked, doubtful.

“I’m pretty sure you just broke my fucking arm, yeah.”

“Fuck,” she breathed out, eyes wide, trying to remember what the hell she was supposed to do for a broken arm.

“Goddamnit, Shaw!” Reese said, wincing. “Now I’m out of commission and this shit is gonna keep happening till you address your issues. You’re off your game.”

“‘Out of commission?’” Shaw said incredulously. “Wow, that’s gonna hurt the whole demon-hunting agenda. Oh, wait, it’s not, because you don’t patrol or do shit to help me fight or anything. I’m sure it gets real tiring being Finch’s lapdog.”

Reese closed his eyes and forced out a deep breath. “I don’t have time for this shit. Just go get Finch, will you?”

She went upstairs, and not seeing Finch immediately, yelled up to wherever he might be. “Finch! I broke Reese’s arm. He needs a hospital ride.”

She heard a startled yelp from Finch upstairs and slammed the front door before he or Reese could catch up with her.

* * *

A fledgling vampire was careless enough to let Shaw trail him back to his nest, where almost a dozen other vampires were residing in a decrepit, abandoned building. She staked all of them within a couple minutes, but the burst of pride that normally would have accompanied her accomplishment didn’t come.

She was beginning to realize that  _ maybe _ she shouldn’t have said those things to Reese right after she broke his arm. While she didn’t feel particularly guilty about any of it, she did have the perspective to understand that breaking someone’s arm and then verbally bullying them was a bit of a dick move. She’d been relieved not to see Joss when she went home to grab some weapons for patrol—Joss probably wouldn’t love the fact that Shaw had broken Reese’s arm with her carelessness.

On her way home, she took her time, looping around the various cemeteries and hoping maybe she could get back late enough that she could slip into her bedroom without having to chat with Joss. Shaw hadn’t been in a talking mood lately. 

She was making her way back through Restfield when a man, thirty-something and pretty generic, approached her. His face was human, but he could still very well be a vamp, and for what it was worth she couldn’t imagine what good reason a human man would have for approaching her in a cemetery late at night.

“I have a message,” said the man, stopping a couple steps away from her. She eyed him suspiciously. 

“Well? What is it?”

“Elias would like you to speak with one of his representatives.”

She barked out a short laugh. “And what makes him think I’m gonna do that?”

“We have your friends,” the man said simply, and her hands were on his collar roughly pulling him forward in an instant.

“Where?” She growled, and he recited off an address. She recognized the street name; it was a largely abandoned area made up primarily of deserted warehouses. Classy.

His face was still human, and even though he was obviously working for Elias, she had to be sure before she plunged a stake into his chest. She punched him hard in the nose and he stumbled backwards. That tended to make them vamp out even if their faces were still human.

The man snarled, his eyes yellow and his face now feral and distorted. “Hey! I’m just responsible for telling you where to go. Don’t kill the messenger.”

She grabbed his arm and pulled a stake out of the waistband of her leggings in one fluid movement, driving it into his heart. “I’ve never been very good at following orders,” she told him, watching as his body disintegrated into dust.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've had Shaw's canon coffee order in my notes for months and I'm glad I finally got to slip it in there!
> 
> Some clarifying notes on the universe of this story:  
> I finally plotted this all on a timeline because I know the timing of this story has been a little iffy. I don’t think it matters that much, but if you wanted to know, it’s been about 6 weeks since Shaw was called as the Slayer, as of this chapter. I’ve arbitrarily said she was called on or around October 1st, so we’re now around mid-November. The story is set mid to late 2010s, or in an alternate universe 2020 where the world isn’t a total disaster.   
> BtVS canon sets the fictional town of Sunnydale somewhere around Santa Barbara. Sunnydale is inherently a super illogical place because of the sheer number of cemeteries and creepy abandoned factories/mansions there are in such a small town, but it’s best not to overthink it.   
> Finally, this story exists in a world where most but not all of the Buffyverse lore is intact, while the actual characters never existed; that is, stuff like the Watcher’s Council, specifics of Slayer and vampire powers, etc, are constant, but this is a universe in which Buffy/Angel/Spike/Faith/Willow/literally everyone else never existed. The Master, Watcher, Slayer, etc still exist but they’re all POI characters. The one exception to this is that at some point (probably not in this work but maybe a sequel) I might like to explore a crossover where Fred or Illyria make an appearance because, you know, Amy Acker.


End file.
